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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419329">Simple Changes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mist_Fire/pseuds/Mist_Fire'>Mist_Fire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Simple Changes [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slytherin Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:00:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419329</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mist_Fire/pseuds/Mist_Fire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a somewhat sympathetic Goblin who notices how confused and uncomfortable Harry Potter is, and a single question answered honestly from within the magic of Gringotts himself. From there, it spirals into a question-answering session, a healing bath, and lessons from inside a strange room with books and a single Goblin. The Harry Potter that enters Hogwarts and gets sorted into Slytherin will change the future of the Wizarding World, but not to the whims of a certain Headmaster.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>They might be Eleven to Seventeen But they are Children</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Simple Changes [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144898</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Year One, Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I think it might be easy to tell where my Beta Writer stopped physically editing this chapter to make it more ‘coherent’, and I apologize. If you notice any serious issues, please let me know. I tried to squash all the mistakes, but I'm physically tired and staring at screens hurt. This is also my first story posted on this site, and... I'm not all that happy with how the story has turned out so far. </p><p>I'm only adding Tags as I go along to stop myself from making a promise to readers that I eventually end up scrapping, so please bear with me as I occasionally update the tags each chapter.</p><p>I had intended the entire Dursley family to be negligent at best, not for Petunia to sneak her way into my story as a somewhat redeemable person. I tried to write out the Dursley’s scene nearly eight different times, but each time it got shorter and shorter, and… well, Harry isn’t looking for a fight. Seriously- the whole Dursley’s scene started as a page and a half, and not it’s not even a half a page, but my Beta says it’s good, so here you go.</p><p>If, for some reason, you feel like coming up with a better title, let me know. I'll keep the offered title in mind as I continue on with this mess of a semi-planned story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a simple enough question that Harry Potter hadn’t thought twice about answering honestly, regardless of the worried sputtering of Hagrid. The man had been nice to him, but Harry hadn’t been raised by the Dursleys to be so impolite as to not answer a question when talked to (not <em> at </em>. There was a difference, and it made his world a whole lot less painful when he finally learned that difference). He’d been raised by the Dursleys to be obedient to authority, and Bank Staff, no matter how weird they looked, held more authority than either he or Hagrid did- as was obvious by the way the warnings that Hagrid had given him just short of entering the building.</p><p>
  <em> “And did Mister Potter know about his Vault Key being in Mister Hagrid’s hands?"</em>
</p><p>No. He hadn't known that, and made sure to say as much. </p><p>Then the questions took off once he got moved into a separate room and Hagrid was barred entry. Harry would admit, albeit just a bit shyly, that it was just a little funny to watch Hagrid get pushed out of the Bank- minus the Vault Key, which got placed into his hands- by Goblins that didn’t come up the man’s knees.</p><p>No, Harry hadn’t given Rubeus Hagrid permission to hold his Vault Key. </p><p>No, Harry hadn’t given someone named Albus Dumbledore permission to use his Vault Key. </p><p>No, Harry hadn’t given permission to Albus Dumbledore to use the money in his Vaults for his own purposes.</p><p>No, Harry hadn’t given Albus Dumbledore permission to vote using his seats (he’d had to stop and ask about that, prompting more questions). </p><p>No, he’d never heard of a Magical Guardian. </p><p>No, he’d never heard of, nor met, anyone with the name of Albus Dumbledore. </p><p>No, he’d never gotten a letter from Gringotts- in fact, he’d never gotten a letter addressed to him until his Hogwarts Acceptance Letter. </p><p>No, he didn’t know of the wizarding world until just a few short hours ago. </p><p>Yes, he’d swear knew absolutely nothing (or, at least, next to nothing) about the wizarding world. All he knew was that magic was a thing that existed, his parents both were magical, that Aunt Petunia possibly had some kind of falling out with someone of magic, and he got a letter for a school of magic.</p><p>Then the Goblin giving him an odd ‘Spanish-Inquisition’ paused long enough to ask for a small bit of his blood, to run both an inheritance test and a quick medical scan. The Goblin specified that the blade was special made to allow whatever cut was made to be healed right after the blade was removed, and that the blood being used would only be used for the two tests, and that nothing else would happen with them, as Gringotts was bound by oath to protect their clients- be them paying or not, and distributing blood was against their Oath.</p><p>Harry had asked about that while complying with the semi-strict instructions the Goblin gave him after snapping his fingers and two bowls of liquid appeared with parchment. Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about Blood Magic being a thing that actually existed, but the Goblin was kind enough to explain that while the British Ministry may have outlawed it for the more dangerous things Blood Magic could do, Blood Magic was a thing that was used in almost any branch of magic- especially healing. Apparently, as long as one avoided using their blood to harm others, the Ministry couldn’t really punish someone except to give them a slap on the wrist and a warning. </p><p>(Or, you know, leave the country to do the magic. Blood Magic was outlawed only in England, after all.)</p><p>By the time the Goblin was done explaining Blood Magic and why there was a sigma around it- Blood Magic could be used to control a living person more fully than, say, the Imperious Curse- the two parchments had been dunked into the bowls with his blood, and were now covered in text- of which had steadily grown enough that Harry felt something drop in his stomach at the <em> cold-furious-baffled </em> look that the Goblin gave it.</p><p>The first thing that Harry noticed was that both texts, at the top, read Hadrian Osiris Peverell, not Harry James Potter.</p><p>(Actually, Harry James Potter was on the parchment, but it was under ‘Public Alias’. Apparently, Magic had seen fit to ‘rename’ him? That was a thing that happened? The Goblin did not like the interruption that happened, but Harry couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad about that.)</p><p>The inheritance test, the Goblin explained, informed the readers of who he was, who his parents were, and any and all potential Wizarding families he belongs to. Of which, Harry had just been somewhat expecting <em> Potter (Lord) </em> to be on that list. What he hadn’t been expecting was for the list to also include <em> Peverell (Lord) </em> , <em> Slytherin (Acting Heir) </em> , and <em> Black (Heir) </em>.</p><p>Harry had to ask the Goblin to explain why the Lord and Heir parts were included on the list, and, seriously, why was he Hadrian Peverell on the Parchment when his name was, at least he was pretty confident about this, Harry Potter.</p><p>Harry did not appreciate the blank stare he received from the Goblin in return. Then he was asked another question.</p><p>No, Harry had never had a tutor to help him learn of his heritage. Again, he had been completely unaware of the magical world up until a few hours ago. The Goblin muttered something under his breath that Harry couldn’t understand, and then pushed the medical text over so they both could read it. </p><p>Harry expected the medical list to be long- he’d never been the healthiest of children and his cousin taking any chance he could to terrorize him hadn’t helped. Of course, what Harry hadn’t known was that most people's medical lists stopped at ‘Year One: Killing Curse’ or that ‘Year Three: Cruciatus Curse, grade three’ would have caused significant nerve damage- and that remnants of the damage was still visible whenever Harry had need to write something in his shaky scrawl. Harry Potter also didn’t know that ‘Year Three: Imperius Curse (68% Degraded)’ would cause someone to obey the will of another. Harry Potter also didn’t know what all the blocks, leeches, and potions in and on him were for, but Harry had a feeling that it wasn’t something he was going to enjoy learning about.</p><p>A lot of the spells compulsions on him had an caster next to their name, and it was one that Harry made note of since he'd been asked about it before. Albus Dumbledore.</p><p>Harry also wasn’t sure what a Horcrux was, but the fact that it was ‘Core Bound’ to him seemed interesting, as was the fact that he had something called a ‘Core Blocker’ attached to him, and that it was only at 85% strength. </p><p>Other than that, Harry Potter couldn’t really see anything wrong with the medical list. He knew he had broken multiple bones in the past, numerous scars from all the burns and lashes he’d received for failing to complete his tasks in a timely manner, and he knew that he'd been sick many times. It had been one of the reasons his Aunt had finally relented to Uncle Vernon and Dudley's demands and pulled him out of Public School, citing health issues and not wanting to risk any other children whenever someone brought the subject up.</p><p>(It had also been the start of a divide between Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, but Harry hadn’t noticed it until years later. Aunt Petunia never talked about it, though, and Harry didn’t feel comfortable enough to try and bring it up most days.)</p><p>The Goblin started to chitter angrily in its own language before snapping his fingers three times and asked Harry to follow him. The Goblin led him down long winding hallways that grew steadily darker as they walked along, eventually stopping before a set of heavy doors with golden etching on them. There was a symbol of some sort of bird on it in the dead center, and the Goblin didn’t hesitate before telling Harry to go inside the room and to listen to the healers.</p><p>Harry had wanted to ask questions, but he knew better than to ask. The Dursleys had engraved that knowledge into him early on. No matter how happy someone looked, or how well-meaning their gift, to ask a question would always get you into trouble and the gift taken away.</p><p>The pain that usually followed was doubled if the gift had never been meant for Harry to keep. </p><p>So, Harry bit his tongue, gritted his teeth, and walked in. </p><p>The ‘healing’ that the Goblins wanted him to go through wasn’t too bad, and although he had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that the Goblins were taking a few liberties with the process, he kept his thoughts to himself. About halfway through the process, the Goblins wanted him to strip and step into a pool of light-blue liquid, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from staring at the Goblin who asked that of him.</p><p>“You need to heal.” The lead Goblin, who was dressed in green-gold robes, said after a moment of silence. “Clothes get in the way. Don’t worry, we’ve seen worse than the natural Human anatomy and scars. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Now, strip and get into the healing pool before we cut off the clothes and dunk you in.”</p><p>Without needing to be told a third time, Harry stripped and stepped into the pool. Then, he followed the instructions of the Goblin and tried his best to get into a comfortable position laying down. </p><p>Harry managed it only moments before his world went blurry and he passed out into oblivion, with only the chanting of Goblins to lull him to his sleep.</p><p>The first thing Harry registered when he started to wake up again was that the room around him was much brighter than the one he had been in previously. There was also the soft smell of something earthly wafting through the air, alongside a soft stringed melody. The second thing that Harry noticed was that whatever he was laying on was a lot softer than the old baby mattress that he’d been sleeping on in his Cupboard- which told him a lot about where he was, and that the vague memories of what had to be a dream weren’t actually such an impossible dream.</p><p>The third thing Harry noticed was that someone was speaking. Harry couldn’t understand the language, and it sounded a lot like the language that the Goblin who had been helping him had been muttering to itself. So, opening his eyes, Harry blinked a couple of times as he tried to sit up and take in the room around him.</p><p>It was much nicer than anything the Dursleys ever had, and the room gave Harry a sense of something important. The floors were a deep black color, and polished enough that Harry could see the reflection of the candles and ceiling without effort. The walls were covered in bookshelves, each overflowing with books, and a single table sat in the middle of the room, with two chairs; one of which was occupied by a Goblin who was busy scribbling things down onto a piece of parchment with a quill.</p><p>Said Goblin was also chittering to itself.</p><p>“Good to see you’re awake.” The Goblin didn’t even look up or pause what it was doing. “We have a lot to discuss, and we of Gringotts wish to provide aid. Come, sit.” The Goblin paused only long enough to motion to the empty chair at the table before it went about scribbling again.</p><p>A pause in the writing, and the parchment vanished, only to be replaced by another.</p><p>Harry blinked twice before deciding against asking questions. Hagrid had given him a warning about how short-tempered Goblins were, and Harry had seen their sharp-toothed grins and all-knowing gaze. He didn’t want to anger or offend them- from what Harry could tell, they’d so far done nothing except provide him with help.</p><p>(Harry didn’t want to ask about the price for this aid, but he knew nothing comes for free. Uncle Vernon had taunted him enough with that. Aunt Petunia had tried to fix some of the damages while he was off at work and Dudley was a school, but there wasn’t much she could do.)</p><p>Once he sat down, the Goblin stopped writing and gave Harry his full attention, explaining where they were and what was going on.</p><p>They were inside a very special room, located near the heart of Gringotts himself, that was “Temporally locked between just three seconds ago and the next fifteen minutes”, and he was currently inside the room because “Your appalling lack of education in matters of Lady Magic herself will spell the end of Magic if the proper steps are not taken to remedy this”.</p><p>Harry had to ask for clarification, to which the Goblin only said “I rest my case, Child” and waved his hand. A book flew into the awaiting palm, and was quickly handed off to Harry with a stern warning to “Read this fully. I will be here to answer questions you may have- It is my job to answer any and all questions, regardless of how they must sound to you or how pointless”, and then he went back to writing on his parchment. </p><p>The book was titled <em> Magic and its Birth </em>, and the only reason Harry knew that was because it was written on the inside of the book in silver-ish ink. The cover of the book and it’s spine were all a dull brown color, it was warm to the touch, and the book didn’t seem all that long. Harry had read some of the kindergarten books that were thicker than the one just handed to him. Mentally shrugging, Harry turned to the first page and began to read, mind wandering through question after question.</p><p><em> “The first properly documented cases of Wixen in recorded history are hard to locate to any one region of the world, but most Unspeakables who study the history of Lady Magic will agree that the area known to Muggles as </em> <em> Mesopotamia is as decent a starting place as any to begin ones search…” </em></p><p>The book <em> Magic and its Birth </em> was a little hard to read all the way through, and Harry had to stop himself multiple times to ask questions from the Goblin sitting across from him, who usually answered him without pause or looking up. The book itself talked about how magic had potentially started from something as simple as a silly idea to dance to make the summer rains fall, to soothe the blistering heat and to help the crops grow. That the combination of movements and intent and sounding syllables mixed in with coincidence had caused the birth of Lady Magic, who took one look at what Muggles were trying to do, and had gifted some of the Muggles who were more sensitive to the whispering song, and the devoted, of Mother Earth the ability to grasp onto her lifeline. Thus was the birth of ‘Magic’. </p><p>From there, the book also talked about how the Earth’s lifeline was tied strongly to certain days of the year, taking into account the lunar cycles and seasonal winds, and that there was a direct correlation between those who honored Lady Magic for her gift and those who didn’t: Those who honored Magic often were stronger than their peers, and, further down the line, produced children who were often void of health issues. Those who celebrated Magic for Magic itself were also known to bend the very laws of Nature without issues, so long as certain laws Lady Magic had issued remained seen to.</p><p>Harry had questions, and the Goblin was kind enough to answer, even if he’d sometimes tell Harry to re-read the book with a pointed look that conveyed something Harry could not understand.</p><p>The second book handed to him, once Harry could recite information from the first book without so much as looking at it, was called <em>Magical Societies through the Ages</em>, and it was an even more daunting read than the previous book, and just as dull and dry, if not more so. The book seemed to expand upon what <em>Magic and its Birth</em> had talked about, because the book started in Mesopotamia with three different groups of people who had similar ideals and goals, but widely different methods in which they wanted to obtain their desires, and- instead of fighting like Harry thought there was going to be- the groups settled into different parts of the world. The book explained the cultural differences between the magical groups and how their cultures came to develop how magic was viewed and treated, and Harry found a very interesting piece about blood. </p><p>The three to four paragraphs explained that those who honored Magic’s gift were called Purebloods, and that in modern society they were the reason that Magic had yet to die out from how weak it had gotten. Blood traitors were those who had been gifted with magic and stopped honoring Lady Magic and her gifts. There was even a small tidbit of information talking about how those who became Blood Traitors were oftentimes left barren by their magic deserting them.</p><p>Harry had plenty of questions for the Goblin, who at one point laughed when Harry asked if there was a way for someone who was declared a Blood Traitor to ‘fix their wrongs’, so to speak. The question was answered three paragraphs down, much to Harry’s embarrassment. </p><p>Yes, there was a way for Blood Traitors to ‘redeem’ themselves. They were even called Redeem Blood for it, and while it was considered an offense to become a Blood Traitor, a black mark on the entire Family, to become Redeemed Blood was considered socially acceptable- although the Family would still bear the social stigma that came with it. To redeem oneself took dedication and serious commitment, but it was possible. Apparently, the Wizard Merlin had taken on students who were Redeemed Blood, just to prove that Lady Magic had accepted them back into her arms; to prove that they weren’t to be shamed for the actions of their families.</p><p>Harry was left wondering about those who couldn’t honor magic through some kind of means that was beyond their control, and the Goblin just gave him a sharp-toothed smile.</p><p>“You will find, Mr. Potter, that Magic is very sentient, regardless of how long it has been waiting. If you are worried about yourself, fear not. I am certain that Lady Magic will judge you fairly, and with understanding that you are only now just getting caught up, when you are ready for her judgement.”</p><p>That hadn’t made Harry feel any better, but he supposed it was something, and went back on to read. The Goblin’s words made some amount of sense- why, and how else, would Magic have renamed him, so to speak? Of course, he hadn’t asked for himself- it hadn’t even crossed his mind that he could be considered a Blood Traitor for never once honoring magic.</p><p>The pattern of ‘Read Book - Answer Questions - Reread Book - Answer more questions until he’s able to answer without hesitation or looking at said book - Get new book’ continued onwards for a good eight to nine books before Harry noticed that he wasn’t seeing through his glasses, and nothing looked fuzzy or blurry like it normally did when he turned his gaze away from the book to look at things at a distance.</p><p>The Goblin did nothing except grin at him and hand him a new book when asked. <em> Optical Damages and their Cures </em>. </p><p>(Harry might have huffed at that, and then outright laughed when the Goblin started to chuckle. Fair enough, he supposed. Magic.)</p><p>(The book was an okay read, even if Harry wasn’t actually all that interested in it.)</p><p>From books called <em> A Brief Guide to Magical Self Care </em> to a book called <em> Unmoving Through the Ages: An Unabridged History on the Roles of the Sacred 28 and Their Connections to Magic </em> to books like <em> The History of Pureblood Culture </em> and <em> Magical Animals for the Muggleborn Wix </em> Harry felt like there was nothing that the room didn’t have in it. Harry had even watched the Goblin set aside certain books- all of them without titles, and made note of them.</p><p>They were, according to the Goblin, the Grimoires for the wizarding families he belonged to. </p><p>The Potter Grimoire looked the newest, being both the thinnest of the books and with edges that weren’t fraying or worn down. The Peverell Grimoire, on the other hand, looked like it could be used as some kind of blunt-force weapon (and, perhaps, had been used as such once upon a time- there was a stained splotch of red-brownish <em> something </em> that Harry didn’t want to think about on one of the corners of the Grimoire’s spine).</p><p>Slytherin’s Grimoire had decorations of snakes on it, and Harry supposed that he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he had been to realise that not only did the snake etchings on the tome <em> move </em> , but they also <em> talked </em>. And talk they did: One snake would not stop going on and on about how it had been a long time since someone had taken the ‘secret book of ramblings and etchings’ out of the ‘old, dusty cave with glittering pieces’. Another snake was more reserved in what it said, but Harry could hear the faint ‘Please be quiet, sister, you are very loud’ that would occasionally come from it.</p><p>(The Goblin only raised a brow when Harry asked about the talking snakes. No comment, no book handed to him. Nothing.)</p><p>The Black Grimoire, Harry was surprised to note, look well loved and used. It didn’t carry the same ancient feel to it that the Peverell or Slytherin Grimoires did, but it was obvious just by glance that the thing was old. There was also a strange feeling coming from the book that felt neither warm or cold, and Harry asked about it. It felt like the book was judging him, and Harry found the idea hilariously funny, until the Goblin explained that Grimoires could kill a person if they weren’t meant to read the book.</p><p>“Probably just a protective set of runes,” The Goblin explained, “Old families do that to prevent anyone aside from the main branch access to the knowledge.” It made sense, Harry supposed. A book full of secrets of certain Families were to be protected- having those secrets aired to the world weakened a family greatly. “The fact that you’re feeling something means that, while you’re eligible for the Heirship of Black, so is at least one other person or equal eligibility. Unfortunately, Lord Black has yet to produce an Heir and is unable to arrive at Gringotts to settle the matter.” The Goblin took the Black Grimoire back and put it back in the Vault it came from with another flick of his wrist, and continued to talk.</p><p>“There is no Oath or anything like that you need to take to be able to open the Potter Grimoire without issues. You are legally Lord Potter, being the last of your line. For Peverell and Slytherin, that will depend entirely on what you wish to do.” There was an awkward lull where Harry realized he was supposed to say something, and asked what the Goblin meant since he was confused.</p><p>“There are no living Peverells anymore. Their line died out long before the Sacred 28 came into play. Magic has decreed that should you take the proper Oath then you can be accepted fully into House Peverell. The same goes with the acceptance into House Slytherin, although since you aren’t blood related to the current Lord Slytherin he can revoke your status at any point, but not your place as a member of his House, unless you do something to cause grievous injury to one under Lord Slytherin’s command.”</p><p>Harry recalled reading, somewhere in the stack of books, about how sometimes one House was bound to serve another, and recalled a, albeit brief and not-touched-upon-again, mention of how House Peverell had a standing agreement with House Slytherin, and asked the Goblin if that would interfere with anything.</p><p>It shouldn’t, according to the Goblin. As long as he presented himself to Lord Slytherin and took the Oaths and Vows required of him, nothing should happen. It wasn’t the first time a Lord Vassal had also been the Heir to the Vassal’s Lord- it just was a little more than uncommon, and was usually done in an effort to preserve a family line if there were no blood heirs to the family Line. It was also typically done in honoring the Vassals dedication and service to their Lord, but neither Harry nor the Goblin could tell if the reason he was  ‘Acting-Heir Slytherin’ was because of his Peverell name, or because he was the one who supposedly vanquished Lord Slytherin.</p><p>Which turned into Harry learning of the Prophecy (which the Goblins called “Far-fetched and completely suspect”) and how it, quite possibly, already came to pass. Harry learned that Prophecy’s, depending on their subject matter, tended to follow a pattern. </p><p>Action-Reaction-Consequence. </p><p><em> The one with the power to Vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, borne unto those who have thrice defied him as the Seventh month dies. </em> The Action, the Goblin explained their way of thinking about said Prophecy, was the simple act of existing. Harry had been born at the end of July, and his parents had defied the Dark Lord. Of course, the Goblin added on, if the simple act of defiance and being born in late July were true for anyone, a lot of the Dark Lord’s sword vassals would also qualify, which is where the Reaction part of prophecies come in.</p><p><em> The Dark Lord shall mark him as his Equal, but he shall carry a power the Dark Lord knows not </em>. The Reaction was being chosen by the Dark Lord for attack, but ending up with the potential Heirship of the Lord’s house. Equal, the Goblin said, does not always mean in political power or social standing, and rarely does it mean at the same time. If Lord Slytherin passes the mantle, unless he names someone his true Heir, Harry could become Lord Slytherin, thus the two of them being equal, having both held the title.</p><p><em> Either must die by the hands of the other, for neither can Live while the other Survives </em>. The consequence, the Goblin explained with a pointed look, could be interpreted in any number of directions. Harry supposed that was true- Living and Surviving were two very different things, he figured. If you were just surviving, you were only keeping your head above the metaphorical waters and taking life a day at a time in order to keep yourself moving. If you were Living, you were doing well for yourself, and the metaphorical waters were nowhere close to catching you off-guard.</p><p>(Harry wasn’t sure he liked the fact that his own happiness depended on the happiness of another, but Harry supposed that if was going to become worthy of the title of Peverell, he’d also have to swear his Oaths, Vows, and Loyalty to the man who had killed his parents, and that it might give him just enough of a leeway into asking to be spared.)</p><p>(The fact that Harry wasn’t as opposed to the thought as he should have been didn’t really sit right with him. They were his parents, yes, and he was contemplating swearing fealty to the man who had killed them with the hope that he could explain himself and his desire to live, but he hadn’t really gotten to know them. Was it normal to not miss people he didn’t really know, even if those people were his deceased parents?)</p><p>(Should he have been angry? Harry felt like he should have been, but he wasn’t too sure about that. His head hurt trying to think about, so he turned his attention back to reading and learning what the Goblins were trying to teach.)</p><p>Harry wasn’t sure how long he spent in the room with the Goblin going over the three Grimoire and the histories of each family, with the occasional reference to House Black, and he was pretty sure that some of the books the Goblin had him go and grab were repeats of what he had already read, but Harry supposed that it didn’t hurt to make sure that he knew by heart the information.</p><p>After all, all the other Purebloods had grown up with the information. He was having to learn it from scratch, and the Goblin had suggested he make friends with some of the Purebloods and, after offering the proper pre-emptive apologies for any future social blunders he makes, ask them to help him learn the more intricate parts of his heritage and culture.</p><p>The Goblin even mentioned that, if he wanted, he could legally drop the Potter name while still retaining all the rights- it was his blood and his inheritance as the last of his line- since he’d have to use the Peverell name when making any and all of his Oaths or Vows. He’d also have to use the Peverell name on anything that required a legal signature, be it in ink or in blood. </p><p>(This was because, it seemed, the Peverell name carried more weight to it than the Potter name did, and Magic recognized- or was it made?- him as a legal Peverell. How that worked, Harry wasn’t sure, and the Goblin told him that Magic had her own ways of doing things that were different from mortal creatures. The Goblin also mentioned that Harry should get used to writing his name down as Hadrian, because that was what all his legal documents were going to be, unless someone altered them- That Lady magic would see to it herself to ‘fix’ any and all previous documents that were valid.)</p><p>By the time that the Goblin had deemed Harry ‘well enough off’ to fend off the British Wizarding world, Harry had lost complete track of the time. He knew it had to have been at least a couple of days, judging by the number of times that the Goblin had told Harry to put the books down and go lay back down on the bed. Each meal had been brought into the room at a snap of the Goblin’s fingers, and Harry felt the need to ask, having gotten used to doing so.</p><p>“I told you, child. This room is Temporally locked, meaning that while we are inside of it, no time passes outside unless the door is opened from outside. We of Gringotts do not often lend our aid in the matters of Humans, but you… No, if we had not offered our assistance and you had continued on blind to what Sister Fate had decreed for you, all of Lady Magic’s gifts would vanish. We see that you are the cornerstone to returning vitality to Lady Magic’s gifts.”</p><p>Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that, and followed the Goblin as it led him outside of the room shrinking the three Grimoires and warning him to not let anyone ever touch them, or lose his Vault Key.</p><p>The Goblin took Harry down to his Trust Vault, where Harry asked about how he’d carry the coins he needed to buy his school supplies, and then paid a small price of 15 Galleons (The gold coins, the Goblin told him with a wry smile) for a coin bag that was linked directly to the Trust Vault and inscribed with runes to ‘Prevent would-be thieves’. The Goblin then informed Harry that he didn’t need to worry about spending all three thousand (<em> Three Thousand! Harry almost couldn’t believe it!) </em>Galleons in a single year, as the Vault was set to refill every year as soon as June 1st hit.</p><p>Which, the Goblin gave Harry another sharp look, meant that he shouldn’t worry about buying the necessary school equipment and whatever else he needed, and handed Harry a piece of parchment with the Goblin’s ‘recommended’ shopping list- just a list of books. “To buy alongside whatever supplies are on your School list”. </p><p>Harry hadn’t actually believed the Goblin when he said that the room they had been in prevented time from passing for them, but he changed his mind when he saw that the line the crowd that had gathered to witness the Goblins throw Hagrid out was still around. They had thinned, slightly, but they were all still there- mostly just minding their own business now that the excitement had worn off. He’d almost feel insulted by that, but Harry was also relieved. He didn’t want to have to fight off a crowd asking for the story of what had just happened. </p><p>Harry still wasn’t sure what had happened, and now he had a lot more responsibilities than he’d have had before, and most of it he still couldn’t really understand.</p><p>(Probably why the Goblin wanted Harry to promise to ask a Pureblood to help him. Humans and Goblins had different cultural jobs, but at least they could help with the knowledge. The experience, the Goblin had told him, could come later.)</p><p>With his school supply list in hand and a recommendation on the first two things to go and buy, Harry set off for a small shop called Ollivander's. It had taken three helpful Wizards and one very ornery Witch for him to locate the shop, and as Harry walked into the building, was greeted by an elderly man with an eagerness that had Harry on edge.</p><p>“I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Potter.” The man grinned as Harry walked in, and Harry’s hand went up to his forehead to make sure that his hair was still covering his scar. “Why, it feels just like the other day your parents were in here buying their wands. Your father’s wand, I believe, was Mahogany, eleven inches, and very well suited for transfiguration work. Your mother’s wand was Willow, ten and a quarter inches, best suited for charms. A combination of the two, I discovered much later, that led to a very successful career for the both of them. Shall we set about trying to find you your lifelong companion?” The man chuckled a bit to himself. “Well, I say that, but the wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter.” </p><p>With that, the man asked to see Harry’s wand hand- that was, the hand that he uses the most for day-to-day activities. Once the wand arm was measured, the man, Mr. Ollivander eventually remembered to introduce himself, set to work giving Harry numerous wands to try out, each with varying results that had the man muttering to himself and shaking his head. </p><p>One reaction even ended up with Harry blowing out the windows of the shop and almost the entirety of the front door, but Mr. Ollivander paid it no mind. Simply muttered to himself about how he was fascinated by all the reactions and took the wand away. </p><p>Eventually Mr. Ollivander went into the back room and came back with a box that looked like it had been undisturbed for a long time. He opened it, revealing a white wand, and motioned for Harry to take it. </p><p>“I’ll be honest, Mr. Potter. This wand has been in this store for a long time- it has but a single sibling, very rare for wands for wands to have any sort of family so to speak, but rarer still that the cores came from the same phoenix within the same minute. The brother to this wand just so happens to be the wand that gave you that scar you’re doing well to hide, Mr. Potter.” Mr. Ollivander gave a slight nod to Harry’s forehead, but other than that, he paid the scar no mind. “This one is Holly, eleven inches. Very unusual combination of Holly and Phoenix Feather, but a unique wand for a unique person with a fate to try and conquer, I suppose. Most Holly wands take to an owner who is in need of managing their anger and can do with a little more protection on their side.”</p><p>Harry blinked. Wands were sentient enough to have siblings? He supposed that it made some sort of sense. One of the books the Goblins had him read had been about magical signatures and wand lore, and there had been a few sections talking about how if someone pushed magic into an ordinary object for long enough, the object would ‘come to life’ to a degree. </p><p>Also, what were the chances that the very Dark Lord he was bound to by prophecy and by Lady Magic had a wand that had a sibling?</p><p>(And, wands were siblings by the material of their core? What about the wood? Did the core have to come from the same animal, and from near-enough the same time?)</p><p>Carefully, and with a bit more hesitant respect than he’d shown the other wands, Harry picked up the wand and gave it a flick. Almost instantly, a shockwave rocked the store and the Holly wand crumbled to dust, leaving behind a thin, iridescent red-orange plumage that Harry guessed to be the Phoenix feather that the wand’s core was made of.</p><p>“Well then!” Mr. Ollivander laughed after a moment of stunned silence. “I see we found the right Core for you, but that it disagreed with the wand. That’s easy enough of a fix to make. Follow me, we just need the core to find you the right wand wood.” With that, Harry followed Mr. Ollivander down a narrow hallway and into a room full of planks of wood. </p><p>“Close your eyes, and focus on yourself. Reach a hand out, and try to find the wood that best suits you. Don’t worry if there’s more than one wood that calls to you- just pick them up and bring them to me.” Mr. Ollivander said after the briefest of moments, then sat down on a chair and let Harry ‘get to work’.</p><p>The books at Gringotts hadn’t really prepared him for the feeling of his own magic, and Harry was completely underprepared for the quick and easy feeling of warmth and security that almost instantly filled his veins. It was like a blazing inferno, compared to the dark and chilly feelings that the memories of being in the cupboard under the stairs gave him, and Harry wasn’t sure if he’d be willing to go back to that nightmare- surely his Uncle would enjoy no longer having to put up with him?</p><p>With his eyes closed, Harry started to slowly walk, carefully making sure that he didn’t bump into anything. Most wood planks gave him no reaction, feeling a little like sandpaper and nothing more. Other planks, however, the moment Harry’s fingers brushed up against the grain, would give warning. Usually that warning was going cold to the touch, but sometimes it was more drastic: the Chestnut wood had stung him, causing Harry to stumble backwards and into the other wall of wood planks.</p><p>Mr. Ollivander had laughed at the reaction, and quite possibly the look on Harry’s face. “Ah, the woods do that, sometimes. An owner they most definitely can’t be paired with. Don’t worry, the wood won’t actually harm you, just make certain that you don’t pick them.”</p><p>Harry grumbled, but went back to searching for the wood that would work for his wand. </p><p>Eventually, Harry felt something like the blazing inferno of warm and protection that was his own magic under his hands, and he grabbed at the wood. Before Harry could open his eyes, however, Mr. Ollivander informed him to keep searching because ‘You never know if you’ll have two wood types or just the one’.</p><p>Harry was a little grateful for that advice as, near the end of the rows of wood, Harry felt that blazing feeling again, and grabbed at another piece of wood. </p><p>“Blackthorn and Alder,” Mr. Ollivander hummed to himself as he took the wood planks from Harry and inspected them. “Alder often finds itself in the hands of those who are helpful and considerate, and Blackthorn is best suited to a warrior. It seems to me, Mr. Potter, that your wand will be quite the spectacle to witness in fruition. An unyielding, loyal wand with the core of a Phoenix… Curious and curiouser, Mr. Potter. Why don’t you go back up and do the rest of your shopping while I make this wand for you. Don’t worry about the mess, won’t be the first time someone’s destroyed my shop while trying out wands.” </p><p>Harry wasn’t sure about that odd gleam in Mr. Ollivander’s eyes, but decided to not question it when the man didn’t seem to be upset about anything.</p><p>The next stop on Harry’s shopping list was clothes from a place called <em> Madam Malkin’s </em> , but Harry figured that it would be more appropriate to buy some sort of bag he could store all his supplies in, and with the aid of an overly friendly Wizard with too many teeth missing to normal, Harry was directed to a small shop that specialized in ‘ <em> Wizarding Cases for all your Traveling Needs!’ </em>.</p><p>The shopkeeper seemed very impressed by the fact that Harry was buying his supplies all on his own and was more than happy to tell Harry all about the different types of trunks that students usually get. </p><p>The most popular, and cheapest, was the standard-sized trunk that usually got placed at the end of the beds in the Hogwarts dormitories. They were big and bulky, and came with the most customization options, but Harry wasn’t sure he liked the idea of trying to lug around a giant chest with him through Diagon while trying to buy all his supplies. The shopkeeper was quick to explain that each trunk was customized with featherlight runes and charms that reduced the weight of the trunk for the one the rune was attuned to, and that the standard-sized trunk was picked often enough by students because they didn’t want to bother with expansion runes on a smaller trunk, which often cost just a little more, but were usually more handible. </p><p>(The shopkeeper laughed at his own joke, and while Harry didn’t understand it fully, he offered up a small chuckle.)</p><p>The small trunks, the shopkeeper was happy to inform him, came in two different styles: Briefcase and Backpack. The backpack styles were, while popular with Muggle-born students, were prone to breaking at the straps, regardless of the charms and runes on it to prevent such a thing. The briefcase, however, was far more sturdy and could easily pass for a muggle suitcase. </p><p>It didn’t really take Harry long to decide on the briefcase, and it only took a little more time to decide on the charms and runes he wanted on it. </p><p>A featherlight rune on the inside of the briefcase, locked to his magic and blood to prevent anyone from just picking the thing up and walking away with it. An extension charm so he could house all his school supplies (“and then some, if you know what I mean” the shopkeeper laughed again at himself). A couple of warding charms to prevent a curious student from looking into the briefcase, and then extra warding and protection runes, also on the inside of the briefcase and locked to his blood and magic. Even a couple runes to help protect the briefcase from weather and intentional damage were added on in afterthought.</p><p>The whole briefcase only cost him just around two hundred Galleons, with the extension charm he’d asked for costing him just over half that amount. Harry wasted no time handing over the coins and placing the three Grimoires and Vault Key he’d been carrying into it once the shopkeeper handed the briefcase over. </p><p>The next stop Harry wanted to make, while it was tempting to just walk right over to <em> Flourish &amp; Blotts </em> to grab his books, Harry figured that he needed clothes a little more than that. Besides, the bookstore seemed a little crowded at the moment, and Harry doubted he’d be able to remain as close to anonymous as he possibly could in such a large crowd. So, he turned to <em> Madam Malkin’s </em> with his briefcase in hand, and was greeted by a squat woman who was all smiles and warm overtures, and Harry couldn’t help but return the very polite greeting he received, feeling a little off balanced.</p><p>“Hogwarts, dear?” The woman asked with a smile. “Got the lot here, just give me a moment. I’ve got another student getting fitted right now, in fact!” Harry ended up standing on a stool next to someone who looked like they might have been one of the Elves from one of the stories he had read in the public library- sharp facial features, pale skinned, eyes that were gray enough that Harry faintly wondered if they were real, and blond hair that reflected light well enough it appeared to glow. It was almost unnatural, and Harry was trying to place why the appearance was familiar to him.</p><p>Harry didn’t feel all that bad about the staring that he was obviously doing, as the other child was obviously doing the same. Although, Harry would admit to some embarrassment when the blond raised a brow and offered up a half-decent smirk alongside a upturn of his nose. </p><p>“I apologize for the staring, sir.” It wasn’t uncommon for strangers, regardless of their age, to address each other as sir or ma’am when in a formal setting. It was only slightly uncomfortable for Harry, but he figured it was better safe than sorry. “I meant no disrespect.”</p><p>“Muggle-born?” The blond asked, his voice laced with obvious disdain. The playful twitch of his lips were gone and now replaced with a scowl. Harry would have been upset and insulted if the Goblin hadn’t had him read and reread the book on the differences between ‘blood status’ in Pureblood society. Harry was still a little upset that the question was asked so crassly and openly, but didn’t take it to heart.</p><p>There were worse things he could be called, after all.</p><p>“Half, actually, though I may as well be Muggle-born since I was raised notoriously muggle.” Harry wanted to shrug his shoulders and offer up a half smile, but stopped himself from the shrugging. It wasn’t done in polite, unfamiliar company, and while the blond had been rude, there was no use fighting over something as simple as one's choice of words on a first meeting.</p><p>The blond said, his amused grin back in place. “Draco Malfoy.” Malfoy went to extend a hand out to Harry, but Madam Malkin made a tut noise and moved Malfoy’s hand back to where it was before.</p><p>Harry wasn’t sure what name he was supposed to introduce himself as, but Harry figured it was only polite to use the lessons that the Goblins had given him. As Harry had been left confused as to how to properly introduce himself, the Goblins had been ‘kind’ enough to run him through a few situations where he’d have to introduce himself or someone else. Harry hadn’t realized he’d be applying those lessons so quickly, nor would he be doing so inside a clothing store of all places.</p><p>“Hadrian Peverell-Potter.” Harry offered up his own smile in response to the wide eyes Malfoy gave him in return. He had refused to give up his biological last name, the only real ties he really had left to either of his parents. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get through my shopping list before getting swarmed by people wanting to talk to their supposed Savior.” There was a wink added to this, which could have been seen as unfitting of the situation, but both Madam Malkin and Malfoy seemed to relax at it, although both of them seemed pretty surprised.</p><p>Malfoy laughed once, but nodded his head in understanding. “Muggle-raised, you said?” He spoke up after a moment of quiet, a thoughtful frown on his face. “You’re quite polite, for not knowing anything of our world.” Unlike the rest of the Muggle-borns was left unsaid, but Harry could practically hear it, like an echo. There was also an undertone in Malfoy’s voice that spoke of suspicion, but Harry supposed that he should be grateful that he hadn’t been called out on it yet, or forced to explain.</p><p>(The Goblins had explained about the books written on him, and the lies that Albus Dumbledore had been spreading. <em> HA </em>! Raised like a bloody prince indeed.)</p><p>The Goblin who had sat with him in the Temporally locked room had mentioned that they shared the same feelings of Muggle-borns as the Purebloods did, and it was simply because the Muggle-born Wixen who came into Gringotts refused to show respect and demanded it without so much as a thought to whose land they were on, regardless of how long they had been in the Magical world.</p><p>(The fact that Goblins could <em> feel </em> innate Magic only helped fuel their dislike of the majority of Muggle-born Wizards and Witches. Those whose magic didn’t feel like a dried lakebed were usually treated better than those who did, and they were usually the ones who treated Goblins with a bit more respect than most.)</p><p>“I apologize if I’ve offended you, Heir Malfoy.” Harry finally recalled why Malfoy seemed familiar to him- the Malfoy family were listed as part of the Sacred 28, and were well known for their political advancements, fashion, Veela blood (which only made their magic that much more dangerous to go against), and ethereal blonde hair. “The Goblins at Gringotts have been most helpful with getting me up to speed, but there is much I still have to learn.”</p><p>There. He apologized properly, and even offered up his explanation as to why any offense might have occurred. Harry had even left a little wiggle room for him, informing Malfoy that he was still just learning everything.</p><p>At this point, Madam Malkin had finished shortening the sleeves of the school robe Malfoy was wearing, and was now working on the hood.</p><p>“It’s quite alright, Heir… Forgive me, is it Heir Potter?” It was a valid question, Harry laughed to himself. As much as he wanted to name his Heirship to Malfoy, if only to put them on even footing (for as much as Harry had even footing against someone who was raised in the Wizarding Culture), Harry wasn’t sure it was wise to reveal his Acting Heirship of Slytherin out in the open, or to reveal his Black Heirship when it wasn’t quite a guarantee.</p><p>(Or with the horrible news Harry had received of his Godfather's incarceration.)</p><p>It was a ‘polite, but threatening’ thing to name all your Lordships and Heirships to someone you’ve only just met, and Harry didn’t want to waste a chance to make friends with someone. Perhaps it was a little self-serving of him, and perhaps a little rude to not even mention it, but Harry didn’t want to waste a chance to make friends with someone from the Sacred 28- you couldn’t get a better teacher than that, Harry thought. </p><p>(Or a friend, a more wistful part of him yearned. Genuine friendship… his first ever! Little steps at a time, he told himself. Harry was going to go school with Malfoy, so hopefully he’d get a chance to talk more to him there, but Harry doubted Malfoy would want to talk to him if he’d been rude. Harry knew first-hand how few people wanted to interact with him after Vernon and Dudley sunk their manipulative little claws into people.)</p><p>“I believe that the records state it’s Lord Peverell-Potter, although I won’t be upset if you simply refer to me as Hadrian, or Harry.” </p><p>There was a pause long enough for a blink, and then Draco spoke up. “Then I ask that you simply address me as Draco.” Harry let himself relax just a little at that. He had taken a risk by giving Draco permission to use his first name, but the worst that really could have happened was that Draco asked that Harry kept up with the formality- it would be nothing new to him, after all. Uncle Vernon practically demanded that Harry be nothing but the ‘best behaved’ while guests were over in case they caught sight of him and asked questions.</p><p>Draco was surprisingly good at keeping up idle chatter and drawing Harry into that conversation, even managing to include Madam Malkin in at numerous points, and before Harry realized it, the both of them had their school supplies sorted out and Harry had filled out a form for bulk day-to-day clothes for Madam Malkin, costing him an extra hundred and thirty Galleons for the amount he requested.</p><p>“I’ve got nothing that fits me right” had been Harry’s explanation, and since Harry was still dressed in his overweight cousin's clothes, he hadn’t needed to go into depth for an explanation and was taken pretty much at face value. </p><p>Draco had been slightly impressed with the briefcase he’d bought when he opened it to put away his new school robes (and hat, gloves, and boots), and noticed that Harry hadn’t bought his books yet. “My mum should be at Flourish and Blotts, if you want to buy your books with me. I’m sure Mother won’t mind if you tag along with us for a bit.” Harry paused only long enough to try and guess if Draco was trying to pull anything over on him, but decided that trust was a two-way street, and he had just offered his hand in friendship. Agreeing was easy enough, and Harry was left a little confused at what looked like genuine relief that crossed Draco’s eyes.</p><p>The crowd at the bookstore hadn’t dimmed down any by the time the two of them arrived, but the crowd wasn’t as loud as it had been. Draco grabbed Harry’s arm and led him over to a woman who reminded Harry a lot of Aunt Petunia when she was trying to act like she was more than she was, except the woman was acting much more natural than Aunt Petunia ever did.</p><p>It kind of terrified Harry, and Harry made a mental note to never anger her. The mental note was reinforced when Draco introduced the woman as his mother, and allowed Harry to introduce himself. </p><p>“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Malfoy.” Harry offered his own greetings when Lady Malfoy turned to face him, a social cue that Harry was going to have to take careful note of. “I am Hadrian Peverell-Potter.” He dropped his voice a bit due to the crowd, but it seemed like Lady Malfoy had caught it, and understood why he had tried to keep his voice from being heard in the crowd.</p><p>If Lady Malfoy was surprised by his name, she didn’t show it. Instead she turned to her son and nodded, and Draco tugged Harry along into the numerous bookshelves of the store. Between him and Draco, the two of them found all of their school books with quick ease, and with a helping hand from Draco, the Goblin assigned books were also quickly found, although Draco did give a questioning glance at <em> Beginners Ritual and Rites: A Guide to Understanding the Natural World Around Us </em>. When asked about it, Draco smiled, shook his head, and dragged Harry to the cashier, who looked stressed beyond belief and rang up the both of them without issue.</p><p>Harry was a little surprised to find that his total for all the books were in a similar range as his briefcase, but happily paid regardless. He’d have to formulate a way to read the books before school started, but at least inside the protective wards and runes nothing could happen to them, and Harry was pleased to note that the expansion charm he’d paid for was actually working.</p><p>Buying his Cauldron and potion supplies had been easy enough, although Lady Malfoy recommended that Harry get both a set of glass vials and crystal vials for his potions as, while the effects were negligible to a master potioneer, the vials one stores potions in could change the properties of a potion just ever so slightly. Harry had been fascinated to learn that, and Draco had sniggered once they were out of the potions store and a bit always from any crowd . Lady Malfoy had been more than happy to talk to Harry about how certain potions responded to different vials, and how, while glass vials were more fragile than their counterpart, they were more receptive to having charms and spells done to them, like a stasis charm- which was often vital for a practicing potioneer.</p><p>Crystal vials were more resistant to tampering, and the innate magic of crystal helped certain potions like Skele-Gro and the Draught of Peace maintain their effectiveness if improperly stored.</p><p>The vanishing charm and water summoning charm were also both important spells to have, Lady Malfoy added on with a bit of smile.</p><p>Before Harry knew it, he was back at Ollivander’s wand shop, and the store was looking as pristine as it had been when he first walked into it- no signs of the scattered glass and blown-out door remained. They were also met by someone who Harry had to guess was Lord Malfoy, judging by the way that he and Draco looked so much alike. </p><p>Draco performed the introductions again, and Harry offered up his own raised brow when all Lord Malfoy did at his name was a slight mouth twitch and raise his own brow. It wasn’t impolite, per say, but Harry knew better than most that a name wasn’t all the impressive if you were virtually unknown. Harry was both unknown, and with a name that, according to Goblins and books, had died out long, <em> long </em> ago.</p><p>(The Dursley’s had made sure to drill that lesson into Dudley’s head, and Harry had paid attention to the lessons through the cupboard. It was one of the few things that Harry could thank Uncle Vernon for and have it sound sarcastic in the end.)</p><p>“Do you still need to get your wand?” Draco asked, looking excited and nothing like the Pureblood Heir he had been moments before. Lord Malfoy turned and stared at his son, and Harry got to watch as Draco flushed and composed himself. Then, much more calmly, stated “I’m told that the wand picks the wizard.” It wasn’t an apology for his actions, but Lord Malfoy didn’t seem upset about it.</p><p>It might have had something to do with the fact that Lady Malfoy seemed just as amused as Harry.</p><p>“I’m actually waiting for Mr. Ollivander to finish with my wand. We found a wand whose core worked for me, but the wood turned to dust.” Harry offered up a slight smile and nearly jumped when he heard Mr. Ollivander speak up from his desk.</p><p>“I finished your wand, Mr. Potter, not even fifteen minutes ago.” Mr. Ollivander chuckled, and held out a box that contained a two-tone wand whose colors tightly spiraled all the way from the base of the wand to the tip. The handle was grooved ever so slightly and etched with knotwork that didn’t make much sense to him, and when Harry reached out to pick it up, the wand settled nicely in his hand like it had always meant to be there.</p><p>It was a nice feeling, really.</p><p>Flicking the wand, Harry halfway expected to be greeted with the chaotic sparks and shockwaves of all the other wands before. Instead, this one produced a silvery mist that smelled faintly of flowers and mint, and Harry felt something inside him stir for the briefest of moments before settling. </p><p>“I must say that I expect great things out of you, Mr. Potter. After all, the one who holds your wands brother did great things. Not often good, but great nevertheless.” Mr. Ollivander chuckled again, and Harry wondered if the man was normally amused or if it was just because of his situation. “Seven Galleons for the wand, and an additional five if you want a holster for it.”</p><p>Handing Mr. Ollivander twelve galleons, Harry quickly got a wand holster for his left wrist, sheathed his wand, and moved out of the way for Draco to get his own wand- and out of the shop entirely. Harry had read that wands were a representation of who a person was as a whole, and knew that obtaining a first wand was considered a private affair for that very reason.</p><p>In far less time than Harry had taken, Draco ended up with a wand and Mr. Ollivander ended up with a shop that was far less destroyed.</p><p>“That was kind of fun.” Draco admitted once he, Lord and Lady Malfoy, and Harry had all taken a half-step into an Alleyway that was less crowded than the rest of Diagon. “I do feel a little bad about the mess it caused.”</p><p>“Mr. Ollivander has gone through that same process for every generation of students, Draco.” Lady Malfoy informed him both warmly and gently, and Harry wondered if Lord Malfoy was deliberately trying to not show ‘too much’ emotion while in public. “I doubt that he cares much, at this point.”</p><p>“Still, father.” Draco responded, “That was six wands.”</p><p>“Much better than mine, I’ll admit.” Harry interjected when there was a lull, not entirely sure on if it was acceptable or not. He hadn’t been addressed, but the conversation had stopped and it was still relevant to the topic at hand. Harry also hadn’t interrupted Lord Malfoy- which one never does (that is, cut a Lord off from speaking). “I ended up going through twenty or so wands before Mr. Ollivander handed me a wand that turned to dust. The core remained, though, so he had me feel out which wood would go with my magic and core.” </p><p>“Mine’s Hawthorn.” Draco admitted with a small smile and nod, the amusement in his eyes matched by both Lord and Lady Malfoy’s, and Harry couldn’t deny them their curiosity.</p><p>“Alder and Blackthorn.” </p><p>“A wand fit for a warrior, I see.” Mr. Malfoy mused, giving Harry a much sharper look than he had before. “How strangely fitting, I suppose, that the wizarding world’s Savior ends up a warrior. After all, you did vanquish the Dark Lord as naught but a babe.” If the statement had come from anyone other than a Malfoy, Harry thought he might have been upset with the statement. However, as it was, Harry had enough experience trying to figure out Aunt Petunia’s silent emotions to realize that it was simply a statement with the intent to gauge Harry’s reaction.</p><p>He could appreciate that, really. It just made him want to cement the friendship between him and Draco all the more. Malfoy’s were known for their political achievements, and Harry doubted they got that reputation by making hasty remarks without keeping an eye on how their Quarry reacted.</p><p>“Supposedly.” Harry offered up in rebuttal, not feeling all that ashamed about it. The Goblins had talked about how he might have survived that night, since the Killing Curse had been cast three different times. The most popular opinion was that Lily Potter had invoked some kind of ancient blood ritual by accident while also using her body to shield her child. “I was only, what, fifteen months old at the time? A year old? I can’t imagine that it was anything I did, but rather something one of my parents did.” Harry wasn’t going to mention the flashes of green light that often plagued his nightmarish dreams, nor the pleas of who could only be his mother begging for his life.</p><p>He didn’t need curiosity this early in things, and Harry had a very distinct feeling that the Malfoy family weren’t used to being denied their information when they truly wanted to search for it. People who were patient in their cunning were oftentimes the worst to up against when trying to keep information secret.</p><p>“Indeed.” Was all Lord Malfoy had to say to that. “Come along Draco, we have things we need to do today.” With that, he turned around and started to walk off, Lady Malfoy following closely behind. </p><p>Harry and Draco were both quick to say their farewells, and with a promise that harry would owl Draco any questions he had- or even just to have idle chatter, Draco finally turned away and joined the rest of his family as they vanished in a swirl of color and air displacement. Harry stood still for a couple moments longer, no doubt with a dopey smile on his face. He had, hopefully, made his first friend and that friend didn’t mind if he Owl’d him for no reason other than to just talk. </p><p>(It was a funny feeling in his chest, and Harry was given a stark reminder that Dudley wasn’t in this part of the world to ruin that feeling for him.)</p><p>That, Harry realized, was going to require him to buy an owl and figure out how to take care of one properly. Hogwarts students were allowed to buy one owl, cat or toad and bring them to school, and Harry supposed that if he was going to have an animal companion following him about, he’d rather it be one he could put to work and have fend for itself. Besides- toads didn’t really appeal to him, and his old babysitter (for all that she was a babysitter and not just someone who was there to give an appearance) had thoroughly trashed any fond feelings Harry ever had for domestic house cats. Those numerous cats had all been horrible ugly and enjoyed nothing more than just staring at him with eyes that were too smart for their own good. It also reeked of something sour, and Harry had issues with changing the numerous litter boxes when he’d been told to do so.</p><p>Backtracking his steps to where he vaguely recalled seeing a pet store, Harry still ended up needing to ask a stranger for assistance. Thankfully, he wasn’t that far off- just around the corner and on the other side of the street. </p><p>Eyeing the outside display case of the Magical Menagerie, Harry had to wonder to himself about how anyone decided what kind of pet to buy. Did they reach out with their magic to try and get a feel for which kind of animal would suit them best, or did they seriously just pick one that appealed to them? Of course, Harry knew that he was getting an owl, but what kind of owl remained the question- and Harry wasn’t talking about the different breeds, although one that could fly during the day would be really, really useful.</p><p>(Harry very carefully kept himself from thinking about the sign right next to the door that said that if someone was looking to buy potion ingredients, there was a shop nearby- just three buildings over- that would let them buy fresh, pre-packaged ingredients for much less hazard than if they picked up the animal live at the shop. Harry very, very carefully didn’t think about why that sign must have been placed there.)</p><p>As it turned out, the Magical Menagerie didn’t have what Harry was looking for, although he kept drawing blanks when the shop attendants tried asking him what it was he was searching particularly in an owl. Eventually, the attendants directed him to Eeylops Owl Emporium  and informed him that he might have better luck over there.</p><p>Eeylops Owl Emporium lived up to its name, carrying nearly owls exclusively. There were even some hanging outside the shop in cages, gazing at people who passed by with eyes that seemed far too judgmental for Harry. The store’s interior was darkened in many places- probably for the benefit of the owls who resided there, and Harry had half wondered if anyone was using the shadows of the store to hide things. </p><p>The owner of Eeylops Owl Emporium, a short, elderly man whose name had absolutely nothing to do with the word Eeylops, had been far more helpful when it came to helping Harry find an owl that ‘fit’ him. The man managed to narrow down six different owls for him to try and bond with when Harry had given him a vague idea of what he was looking for, and Harry didn’t even have to bother choosing between them- the single Snowy Owl who had been brought out for Harry had taken one look at him and settled itself onto his shoulder, refusing to so much as budge when the owner tried to apologize for her and put her on one of the perches he had brought out for the owls. </p><p>Harry laughed it off, claiming that he must have been chosen already- he could clearly see the intelligence in the owls eyes, and he could feel something humming just under the thrum of his  own magic that only started once the owl had landed on him. </p><p>Magic had a mind of its own, he had read and heard, and logical explanations usually would only come after magic had done what it wanted to. Since the owl hadn’t actually hurt him yet, despite the talons digging into his shoulder, Harry figured that he’d buy her and let the magic do what it wanted. Worst come to worst, he still had an owl who seemed to like him well enough who might be willing to deliver letters for him if he asked nicely. Apparently, Harry had been musing to himself out loud, because the owner laughed and explained that magical owls were more intelligent than their non-magical compatriots, and the snowy owl on his shoulder had been attempted to be bought by many, but that she kept flying back to the store, refusing to so much as look at the person who’d paid.</p><p>She had even attacked three different potential owners- all of whom were quickly revealed to be convicts under glamorous or Polyjuice. The only reason the owner still had Hedwig was because she kept escaping everyone who tried to remove her for her ‘violent behavior’, and never injured anyone beyond what a simple healing potion could fix up without issue.</p><p>The owl offered up a soft, almost a chirping kind of hoot, and resumed trying to groom Harry’s hair. Harry had a feeling that she was amused, the brat, but so was he, so Harry figured that he didn’t have a leg to stand on there.</p><p>Harry paid the fifteen Galleons for the owl, and then spent another thirty on a small bracelet with protections weaved into it for her. Another five Galleons were spent on a couple of treats and a travel cage. The traveling cage was put into Harry’s briefcase, and handed one of the treats off to the owl.</p><p>It took a moment for Harry to come up with a name for his owl, having never owned any kind of pet but his mind kept circling around to the name Hedwig- and it seemed the most fitting for her.</p><p>Hedwig had been the name of a Witch who traveled around Africa helping those who had lost their families, regardless of how, and she had started numerous magical orphanages throughout the country to help those children. The Witch Hedwig had died defending a group of survivors while transporting them through a dense forest, getting ambushed by a pack of Nundu. </p><p>It seemed fitting to Harry, that an owl who would no doubt become his greatest companion and had a keen enough of an eye to tell the ‘right’ from ‘wrong’ sort of people… well, even Hedwig seemed to agree with the name, and the shop owner just gave Harry an indulgent smile.</p><p>Instead of putting Hedwig into the travel cage, he put the cage into his briefcase (no doubt amusing the owner of Eeylops) and told Hedwig to spread her wings for a bit and find him once he’s settled down for the day.</p><p>With all the shopping done, Harry had two more things he needed to do, and he was only confident he could do one of them. First, he’d have to go back to the Leaky Cauldron and see if he could rent a room for a couple of nights- just long enough to get his own affairs into order and maybe see about getting a house. Surely the Goblins at Gringotts would know if there were any houses or something that he could stay at so he didn’t need to be renting- Purebloods tended to have more than one house, and they passed them down the generations. Hopefully, the Peverells had something similar, or that there was a Potter estate that was free of Dumbledore. Second, he’d need to talk Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia into letting him leave their home for good. </p><p>Harry was only going to do the second if he could get a room at the Leaky Cauldron. So far, it looked to be the only place that had spare rooms to rent- it even advertised as much, but Harry wasn’t keen on how many people came and went through the place. It would be better than nothing, Harry figured, and turned to head straight down the road.</p><p>As it turned out, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron- a very cheerful man who introduced himself as Tom “No need for last names in this job, keeps it clean and simple”- was more than happy to let Harry rent a room for a couple of nights. Tom was even more so willing when Harry offered to help Tom with chores or anything else if it turned out that he needed to stay until Hogwarts started up proper- It wasn’t like he was unused to labor, and Harry had a feeling that Tom might appreciate the help.</p><p>Besides, it’d be nice to do work and have someone other than Aunt Petunia thank him for his efforts.</p><p>Settling his stuff into his new room, Harry gave himself just a little bit to relax. The room was nothing special, but it was loads better than anything he’d be getting at the Dursleys and reminded Harry of those pictures inside camping books about cabins. All wood and warm tones, Harry felt so at ease that the small nap he had intended to take on a bed that was just ever so slightly scratchy ended up being long enough for Tom to get worried and rouse him for dinner.</p><p>Hedwig did not appreciate sitting outside on the window sill for what apparently had been nearly four hours, but at least she didn’t seem to be angry with him the moment he opened the window and let her have a few more treats. Tom seemed concerned for Harry, but had readily accepted that Harry had been more tired than he realized and fell asleep by accident. </p><p>It was true enough, Harry supposed. He <em> had </em> been more tired than he realized, and he’d dropped to sleep almost as instantly as he’d sat himself on the bed to get himself off his feet for a moment. What he hadn’t mentioned was the giant pit of despair that was filling his insides and turning him cold at the thought of going back to the Dursleys for even a single moment. </p><p>Logically, he knew that Uncle Vernon would have no issues with never seeing him again. In fact, Harry half suspected that if he showed up he’d get the door slammed in his face before he could even get a word in, assuming, of course, that Uncle Vernon even bothered opening the door. Aunt Petunia, however, would be a whole different story. </p><p>Harry was half convinced that the only reason she stayed married to Uncle Vernon was because she couldn’t afford to live on her own while raising him. Uncle Vernon was a source of stability for her, although the man’s temperament left much to be desired. Aunt Petunia had talked a few times, mostly when Uncle Vernon was away on a business trip to another country and Dudley was away on some kind of school camp activity, and mostly drunk, about how her sister had practically abandoned her once she’d ‘left with that nasty bat of a child’, and how ‘if only she’d been a little more sturdy as a child’ she’d have not been left behind. </p><p>It had never made any sense to Harry until he’d read a book about Squibs and and Muggleborn Wixen, and Harry had asked the Goblin about his mother and Aunt. Harry had no way to tell if his Aunt was a Squib or not, and he very much doubted that the woman wanted to have anything more to do with the Wizarding world- she had been very against anything to do with magic, even going so far as to help Uncle Vernon ban anything that could be considered ‘magic’ inside the house. </p><p>(It seemed a little silly some of the things banned. Chinese Finger Traps? Banned. Movies like the Little Mermaid? Banned. Those little magnet toys that used the magnetic field to levitate tiny objects? Banned with a vengeance, and the school got a very nasty phone call from Uncle Vernon about their science fair- but at least Dudley had been amused. Harry had gotten into trouble, however,<em> because how dare he use his freakiness to allow this to happen </em>.)</p><p>“If you want an ear to listen to you, I got a little time before I need to head back downstairs for the evening rush.” Tom offered up quietly from the doorway, another worried look on his face. “I’d be willing to make an oath to keep anything you tell me to myself unless keeping it is going to hurt you, kid.”</p><p>Harry paused to think about it, and eventually agreed. Oaths and Vows were sacred things to those with magic, and they weren’t to be taken lightly. One oath later, and a very alarmed look when Harry informed him that while he was Harry James Potter, Hadrian Osiris Peverell was his magically binding name, Harry started to talk a little about what was bothering him.</p><p>“It’s silly, because I know that I’ll be kicked out of my Aunt and Uncle house for good, which is what I want to have happen, but… I’ve lived there my whole life, never getting a choice in the matter. Now, I’m at the cusp of getting my freedom for good, and… I can’t help but think that I’m making a mistake. My Aunt was never a bad person, but even she couldn’t stop Uncle Vernon from doing certain things.” Harry felt a weight come off of his shoulders as he talked about his fear, and like a breaking dam, the words kept flowing until he’d gotten the whole story out into the semi open for Tom to hear. </p><p>It was like a soothing balm, but the balm left a cold, tingling sensation that wasn’t all that pleasant to deal with. Hedwig provided the physical counterbalance, giving Harry something to hold that was soft and warm. It didn’t hurt that Hedwig was also making those soft cooing chirps again.</p><p>“There really isn’t much you can do,” Tom admitted with a frown. “But here’s what I can do, kid. Tell me your address, and if I don’t see you by seven tomorrow evening, I’ll call for an Auror to go and investigate. You’re worried that your Uncle will get violent, right?”</p><p>Harry nodded his head. That was one of his fears, yes. The other was what his Aunt was going to do. Hopefully, she’d be free to try and think of a way to get herself out from under Uncle Vernon’s thumb, but Harry doubted that it would happen any time soon. Maybe… Maybe he could help push things along? Send mail to her via muggle post and get a feel for what she’d want to do? Would she even accept it? How would he even do that? Maybe he could ask Draco about how to go about the whole ordeal?</p><p>“Keep your stuff here, summon the Knight Bus if you got a distance to go and ask if the driver would be willing to wait a moment for your return.” Tom showed Harry how to summon said bus, just lifting his wand into the air and waiting, and was happy to explain that it wasn’t considered Underage Magic since the Knight Bus was popular enough as an ‘Emergency Transport’ service. Turns out, most used the Knight Bus as a convenience rather than an emergency, but the people who drove the bus didn’t mind- Income was income, after all. “If you’re allowed to leave, just come on back. Don’t worry about anyone seeing anything outside the windows, they’re enchanted for privacy reasons. You won’t be the first to use the Knight Bus to escape a bad situation.”</p><p>Harry figured that Tom’s plan was decent enough, and willed himself to move. One foot in front of the other, and soon enough Harry was outside the Leaky Cauldron and raising his wand into the air near the street.</p><p>The Knight Bus was exactly as Tom had described, but Harry hadn’t been expecting the shrunken head that hung from the rear-view mirror. Harry also hadn’t expected the voodoo-head to start talking to him, nor did he expect the overly friendly conductor or driver.</p><p>Harry also hadn’t been prepared to deal with the violent shaking and tossing that happened inside the bus, and Harry was ever so thankful that the ride to Private Drive only took a few minutes with the alarming speeds and breaking of the laws of reality.</p><p>The conductor was even willing to wait for five minutes before taking off again and making Harry pay an additional eleven sickles, and Harry wasted no time in booking it for Number Four, where he was greeted by Dudley.</p><p>“Mum! Dad!” Dudley called out before Harry could even open his mouth. “The Freak is back!</p><p>“Get the hell out of here!” Uncle Vernon shouted from the dining room, not even bothering to turn and face Harry properly. “I thought we got rid of you for good when you left to buy whatever it was you needed for the damned school of yours.”</p><p>“I promise, Uncle Vernon,” Harry called out, “I only came back here to see if you’d mind if I never came back-” “Then leave and never come back! We didn’t want you anyways, you Freak! Get the hell out of here before you start infecting us with that stupid nonsense of yours!” </p><p>Harry didn’t need to be told twice, especially after he dared glance a look at his Aunt, who seemed like she was eating something sour and nodded subtly. Calling out, he thanked Uncle Vernon for all that he’d never done, and turned back down the street to the waiting Knight Bus. </p><p>Despite how uneasy his stomach was after making that second trip, Harry tipped and additional eleven sickles as thanks for waiting and made the short trip back to the Leaky Cauldron after making sure that his scar was covered once more. </p><p>Tom’s knowing laughter greeted him when he sat down at the bar and asked for soup, and Harry couldn’t find it in himself to be upset with him. The soup he ended up getting had been prepaid for, according to Tom with a wink, and was watered down enough that Harry half wondered if the soup had just been colored water, heated up, and with chunks of meat tossed into it, but it was easy enough on his upset stomach that Harry decided not to comment on it. Instead, he focused on trying to eat and made a half hearted attempt at tuning the idle chatter out.</p><p>It didn’t work, but Harry didn’t mind. Once his stomach had settled (and Tom admitted to adding a stomach-soother to his soup, which gave it the watered-down taste) Harry felt like he was on cloud-nine. He had been given permission to never set foot on Private Drive again, and short of being spelled to do so, nothing would ever drive him to go there again.</p><p>It was a needy kind of feeling. Flighty, and weightless, and Harry settled back into his new bed with soft giggles, and a smile on his face. He was free, and for the first time in just about forever, he felt genuine hope for his future.  Nothing, not even the looming knowledge that the Goblins had dumped onto him about having a hand in the future of Lady Magic, was going to change that. Not even the soon-to-be reality that he'd have to go to a school with a Headmaster who had placed compulsion after compulsion onto him without care for the after effects.</p><p>Hope, Harry decided as he tucked himself in and listened to Hedwig's soft hoot, was a beautiful thing.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Year One, Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In my plot notes, this chapter had no decent stopping point and a few plot hooks I had to make before a certain set of chapters. I kind of ramble on in many places but my Beta Writer says it’s good to go, so have another chapter. It’s a bit boring, with little plot development? I mean, I tried. I have a hard time with plot anchors, but I tried. It's the best I got, and my Beta Writer is getting upset with my fussing.</p><p>Goblins. They snuck their relevancy into my story during this chapter, and my sister convinced me to do something with Alastor Moody that… I… Honestly haven’t really read before. So, that’ll be interesting. Let’s see how well I can actually get that plot point to work out. Mind you, I haven't really gone looking for it, but the point still stands.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bussing Tables at the Leaky Cauldron was honest work, and both more rewarding and fun than Harry thought it would have been, and after Tom had given Harry a small pale-colored headband that was enchanted to match his own skin color to hide his iconic scar, Harry’s popularity had nearly sky-rocketed. A good deal of the regulars who came into the Pub had asked Tom about ‘that polite boy’ and ‘where did you find such a cutie’, and Harry was pretty confident that his face had flushed when Tom had admitted that a couple of people had asked if the two of them were distantly related and if they could borrow him to help out in their stores and ‘How did you get your kid to be so helpful? Mine only wants to laze about the store and skive off work’.</p><p>Harry couldn’t recall a time he’d ever been so happy to be working, and Tom seemed impressed with Harry’s work ethics, although he’d flat out refused to allow Harry a full workload. Instead, he got delegated to helping out during the weekday Lunch rush, and the weekend Dinner rush- both of which were typically full of Regulars who were more than happy to have someone like Harry to talk to.</p><p>One Regular was the quiet, stuttering man who introduced himself as Quirinus Quirrell, Defense Teacher at Hogwarts when Hagrid had dragged him through the pub for the first time. He had waited patiently for the crowd to die down before approaching Harry, and had asked Harry for permission before casting a slight privacy spell on him- one that would turn heads unless someone was focusing on him specifically, but wouldn’t hide his physical appearance. The spell had worked well enough for the Leaky Cauldron, and outside in Diagon Alley covering his scar had been enough to help him through most of the crowds.</p><p>Professor Quirrell, once you ignored the stutter and let him get comfortable with you, was a pretty nice conversationalist. Harry enjoyed some of the stories the man would tell of all sorts of Creatures and, on more than one occasion, Professor Quirrell ‘scheduled’ his Lunches and Dinners for just after the rush hours so Harry could sit down and listen to him talk about his adventures.</p><p>It didn’t hurt that Harry loved the stories and Professor Quirrell enjoyed having someone who actively listened to him without making fun of him for his stuttering, and it also didn’t hurt that Professor Quirrell had only given Harry a nod when the man had asked for a proper introduction since it had been cut short with everyone gawking at him. That, and Hagrid being rude enough to show him off like a war trophy.</p><p>When Harry wasn’t listening to Professor Quirrell regale him with stories of the magical world or helping Tom with the rushes, Harry spent most of his time in his room working through the books he’d bought. The school list proved to be easy enough to read, although Tom had warned Harry against trying to perform any of the spells or potions before he got to Hogwarts proper, since the wards at the Leaky Cauldron weren’t the best for preventing the Ministry from being notified.</p><p>It was a bit of a shame, since some of the spells that were listed seemed pretty harmless to practice. Tom had agreed, but mentioned that even the more harmless of spells could be dangerous without proper supervision, and that while Tom himself was a Wizard and could help Harry with any questions he had regarding the coursework, he didn’t actually know how to teach someone without them being able to do the practical work.</p><p>“It’s no way to start off your introduction into the Wizarding World,” Tom had laughed, “with a notice from the Ministry about Underaged magic. They can expel you from Hogwarts and snap your wand if your offense is great enough.” That warning had been enough for Harry to stop himself from wanting to practice the spells that were in the book.</p><p>Instead of feeling slighted by the inability to practice outside of Hogwarts until he turned of age, Seventeen, Harry took Draco up on his offer of writing to him, and the two of them fell into an easy correspondence. At first, Harry had been unsure of what to write and held little doubt that the first few letters Harry had sent and responded to were just short of being completely unreadable. </p><p>Draco had even commented on it in his very first letter, along with sending him an interactive book on calligraphy. It was, according to Draco, meant for young children to help them get used to writing with quills, and it seemed like something Harry would have needed. Harry had waited to send a response until Tom had deemed his hand writing to be “Mostly readable if you stare for long enough and don’t mind the uneven kerning”.</p><p>Draco’s eighth letter mentioned just how proud he was of Harry’s far more improved penmanship, and <em> Father would like you to know he’s impressed with how strong your Familiar Bond is with Hedwig, and that she is not only a very beautiful owl, but highly intelligent. She’s actually making the other delivery owls a bit jealous, refusing to allow them to deliver to you if she’s nearby.  </em></p><p>Harry relayed the information to Hedwig, praising her and giving her a few treats. When Hedwig puffed up proudly and gave him a very sharp look, Harry couldn’t help his laughter. Hedwig, it turned out, had been one of the best decisions he’d ever made. Hedwig’s response to Harry's laughter was to make a somewhat offended hoot and to fly out through the open window- Harry was pretty certain that it was all dramatics and that Hedwig wasn’t actually offended.</p><p>Harry hadn’t felt comfortable leaving her inside a cage, and left her the entire room to roam as she desired alongside a window that was cracked open to Diagon Alley. At first, Harry had left the window open to allow Hedwig access to hunt for herself, which she took full advantage of, but had later left the window open because the breeze helped him clear his head.</p><p>By the time Draco and Harry had reached their twentieth letter, they were still exchanging words, but they also started to include doodles, which had started as a bit of a joke on Harry’s end. He had been talking about how he’d been fascinated to learn the differences between magical and non-magical plants, and how they both responded to similar treatments, and Harry had included a doodle of poison ivy- an ingredient in a potion to soothe mild skin irritation, but only if the ivy had been raised with magic.</p><p>Draco responded with a picture of a blooming Devil’s Snare, and Harry couldn’t help but be in awe at how detailed the sketch was. Draco had even written a small bit about it at the end of the letter, and mentioned that flowering Devil’s Snare was far more dangerous than it’s non-blooming counterpart, and <em> What do you find most interesting about Herbology? My Godfather says all plants have their uses in potions, but are better substituted with other, less volatile, ingredients.  </em></p><p>Harry didn’t disbelieve it. He’d read a small bit about Devil’s Snare in both <em> One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi </em> and <em> Magical Drafts and Potions </em>. It grew in dark, damp places, and was typically used to safeguard certain objects. They were tamed, for a lack of a better word, by a nearby fire, and had been used historically in the assissination of three different Ministers of Magic and one Political figure in Russia.</p><p>Harry’s response to that was a simple, shaky sketch of all the different plants he’d found interesting in his books. There had been no words written on the parchment, and Harry had been curious what Draco would make of it. Draco’s response to that letter had been to send Harry a series of sketches of all the different creatures he thought were interesting, and Harry could only identify some of them from <em> Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them </em>. </p><p>Harry and Draco kept up the drawing, but they also picked back up their correspondence with words, and they both eventually agreed to meet up on the Hogwarts Express. <em> I have a few friends I believe you’d like to know, Harry. They’ve just about been dying to meet with the person whose letters I keep getting. Turns out, I smile when I get your letters. Who knew? We’ll meet up on the Hogwarts Express, of course. No sense in having them meet you at less than your best. </em></p><p>Harry had felt something in him warm at that, and Tom asked about ‘that dopey smile’ he had on his face. Harry showed Tom that part of the letter, and Harry didn’t mind the hair ruffling he got in return, nor did he mind the ‘Guess that makes two of you who are happy to talk to the other’ that was said with no small amount of fondness.</p><p>Harry even got a letter from Lord Malfoy, and it was simply Lord Malfoy asking of Harry’s plans for the Wizengamot since Dumbledore was claiming that Harry had agreed to a proposal that seemed harmless at first, but could potentially end up with a war between Wizards and the Centaurs over the grounds of the Forbidden Forest. Lord Malfoy’s subtle insult at how he had figured Harry to be a smarter person than that wasn’t lost on him. </p><p>Harry had quickly sent off his response to Lord Malfoy asking him to clarify, since the Forbidden Forest grounds were given to the Centaur Tribes in a legalized treaty that the Wizengamot had to uphold. Harry had even double-checked him information before writing that bit, and he felt confused. There was no way for Wizards to claim the land without going back to war, and if they did, all the students at Hogwarts would be in danger because of it.</p><p>Lord Malfoy’s reply contained advice for Harry to head over to Gringotts to get all his legal information together, and then to head over to the Ministry to settle the issue of who had the right to use the combined Potter-Black seats. Lord Malfoy even made a sub note of how the Peverell and Slytherin seats were now both active, but that no one could sit them without painful rejection, and that Dumbledore had been eyeing them something fierce. </p><p>It was pretty easy for Harry to get a day off from helping Tom with the Leaky Cauldron to do as Lord Malfoy suggested. Tom had even given Harry an extra two days off, smiling all while telling Harry that for having a heavily reduced workload, he still got all the chores done that one would normally have in a full workload and that three days off was nothing compared to what he deserved.</p><p>With his wand holster on his wrist- “Never go anywhere without your wand, kid. Even if you get into trouble for using magic, you can contest the issue at the Ministry if you cast only in self-defense” Tom had warned him- and his briefcase locked securely in his hand, Harry made his way from the Leaky Cauldron to Gringotts, and even made the effort to memorise the password that was required to open the entrance. Diagon Alley, Harry had found, was always bustling and crowded, but Harry found himself slowly easing himself into the flow of life that hung around Diagon. </p><p>Gringotts was just as imposing to enter as before, and just as breath-taking and beautiful. Harry had gotten better at feeling the ambient magic that settled into different places in Diagon, and Harry could almost instantly tell that he wasn’t in Human lands anymore.</p><p>Outside of Gringotts, the ambient magic lazed about without much direction. It was cold to the touch and eager to be used, but it felt ill. The magic inside of Gringotts lazed about, too, but it felt much more aware and alert, like a cat stalking prey. </p><p>This time, when Harry asked if he could speak to his account manager- or all of them if he had more than one- he was able to provide his Vault Key to confirm his identity, and was ushered into a room similar to the one he’d had his little Inquisition in a few days prior. </p><p>As it turned out, Harry had more than one account manager. The new Potter Account Manager was a friendly enough looking Goblin who called himself Naglok, and he held in his little hands a file that looked large enough to rival one of the Grimoires sitting pretty in his briefcase. The Peverell Account Manager, who was an extremely old looking Goblin who called himself Gruknott, sat at the center of the small meeting room at a table, furiously scribbling away into an open file. The Slytherin Account Manager, an equally old Goblin dressed far differently from the other two who called herself Garnott, was also sitting at the central table, but her focus was entirely on Harry the moment he walked into the room. Garnott was also the only of the three who had a visible weapon with them, and Harry had no doubts that the staff that was leaned against her would be deadly if she wanted to use it.</p><p>“We understand that you’ve only recently learned of your status as a Wizard, Mr. Peverell,” The Potter Account Manager spoke up, being the only one who wasn’t sitting at the table and being busy. “And we of Gringotts offer you our most sincere well-wishes for what the future may bring to you and yours. However, we are glad you’ve asked to speak to us. There are many discrepancies in your accounts that have us worried, and coupled with what you have admitted to the last time you were here, we took the initiative to freeze your accounts and are currently undergoing a full audit of what you own. So far, only the Potter Vaults are accounted for, and there is much missing. Come, sit down and let us go over everything.”Sitting down at the table, Harry winced when the file that Naglok was carrying was dropped onto the table with an echoing thud that rang in the air for seconds afterwards. Harry felt his heart drop when the file was opened and he realized that each of those pieces of paper were things that he needed to go over and provide assistance with. Thankfully, Naglok was kind enough to pause in his explanations and description to ask if Harry needed something re-explained, and was more than happy to answer the questions Harry had regarding all of the Potter Vaults.</p><p>Most of the transactions done in the Potter name were pretty benign and Harry had no issue with allowing them to continue. There were numerous small business that were getting a small sum paid to them from a Vault that had been set aside for ‘experimental monetary growth’ a few generations back, and that those payments were occasionally paid back in double if the stores did well, and Naglok showed Harry that the Vault had been untouched except for the automatic withdrawals from the business and the automatic deposits that the business put back into the vault. </p><p>There was even a payment going out to St. Mungo’s Hospital, and the stipulation on that was that it was to be charity and not money returned. Harry had no issue with that. In fact, he kind of liked the idea that his family was helping St. Mungo’s in some way, shape or form, since it was England’s only Magical Hospital. There were smaller clinics that were scattered about, sure, but only St. Mungo existed as Magical Britain's Hospital, and it was centralized enough that any Wix could cast a spell to get there- an Emergency Spell, and not punishable by the Ministry.</p><p>Then there were the more confusing transactions from the Potter Vaults, all done under the name of Albus Dumbledore, who had acted as Harry’s magical guardian. The fact that Dumbledore had even had the Potter Vault Key to begin with was horrifying for the Goblins to discover, but it had been even more so to learn that the man had taken from the numerous Vaults without once ever putting money back in had been the line for them. </p><p>The previous Account Manager for the Potters was currently undergoing investigations to see how much the Goblin had known and knowingly assisted in Dumbledore’s endeavours. It was why Naglok was now his Account Manager, and why he seemed so different from the other two Goblins in the room. </p><p>Albus Dumbledore had made numerous transactions to some kind of Bird Watching group, and while Harry raised a brow at the fact that it was capitalized in the files, none of the Goblins seemed to know where the money went to after it got transferred to a Vault in Dumbledore’s name and removed. Another set of transactions were to a group called the Weasleys, and the only reason that Harry knew their name was because of the fact that the name appeared down at the bottom of the list for the Sacred 28. </p><p>Naglok seemed happy enough when Harry asked about why they were getting money and then told him to stop those transactions when no real reason appeared. </p><p>Naglok was even more happy to stop the monthly transfer of over a hundred Galleons- an even five hundred Pounds- to the Dursleys, especially when Harry mentioned that he never once saw a since pence spent on him more than what needed to keep him alive on a week-to-week basis. </p><p>(Harry only felt bad about it because of Aunt Petunia, but hopefully the woman would come to her senses and try to find a better way to live her life. One that didn’t involve Uncle Vernon.)</p><p>There were even a few more payments to other miscellaneous people and places. Most of them Harry also put a stop to unless a pretty decent reason was stated. Two statements, however, stood out to Harry and Naglok and made them pause.</p><p>One Alastor Moody, and one Remus Lupin. </p><p>They had both been receiving payments from the Potter Vaults, but the money going to both accounts never left Gringotts. The payments to Remus Lupin were being returned without issue, and Harry was content to not press charges like he and Naglok were planning to with everyone else, especially when a little digging into the matter revealed that Remus Lupin had been aware of it all and told his account manager to return the money.</p><p>Alastor Moody, however, had set aside the money going to him into a separate account with a note attached to it. The note, Naglok read off after a good deal of negotiation with account manager for the Moody family, was a polite enough of a request for the amount in the Vault to be matched from the Moody Family Vault, and then tripled before being given back to the Potter Family when the Vault was no longer controlled by Albus Dumbledore.</p><p>It was baffling enough for Harry to stop the payments into the Vault, but asked that the Goblins not yet act on the offered note. He especially wanted nothing to happen yet after Garnott explained a bit about who Alastor Moody was, and his connection to Albus Dumbledore.</p><p>From there, Naglok explained about some of the missing items from the Potter Vaults. They were mostly missing books and innocuous items like charmed goblets and engraved paintings, but there were more practical items missing, along with some things that the Potter Family Magic recognized as Legal Heirlooms- all of which had been removed after the night October 31, 1981. Harry had felt a cold fury rush into his veins at that- even if Dumbldore had been his legal guardian, the moment that his parents had died, no one should have been able to get into the Potter Vaults, even if they held his Vault Key, much less remove items from them.</p><p>That, he had heard explained both in one of the Pureblood books and from the Goblin who had helped him inside of the Time-locked room. </p><p>(Harry had been happy to learn of the Goblin’s name. Ragnok. Harry had been less happy, and more horrified, to learn that the Goblin Ragnok was actually King of the Gringotts Clan, and that Ragnok had deemed Harry a ‘high enough priority’ to stop his usual business for the day to assist him with learning.)</p><p>(The three Goblins in the room all looked just a little too amused. And Blood-thirsty, but Harry had a feeling that they were normally just a little bit bloodthirsty when it came to dealing with money.)</p><p>Naglok and Garnott were both happy to explain how to use Lady Magic’s gifts to recall any and all items that belonged to him back to the Potter Vaults, and Harry wasted no time in doing so. The feeling of his magic rushing out from himself and into the air left him dizzy momentarily, but it was nothing compared to almost physical snapping he felt as Magic reclaimed what belonged to his family. That feeling, Harry was displaced to note, left his aching and exhausted. </p><p>Some of the Potter Estates were in shambles and in serious need of both repair and being re-warded again, and Gringotts was happy enough to supply those services for a fee that was easily enough paid. Naglok informed Harry that if he wanted his property in Godric’s Hollow, he’d have to talk to the Ministry because they seized it shortly after the night the Potters were attacked and killed, and have thus far refused to return it back to Goblin hands.</p><p>Naglok wrapped up what he wanted to talk about by asking how Harry wished to proceed with pressing charges against those who stole from his Vaults, and Harry didn’t waste a moment to ask Naglok for suggestions on possible courses. </p><p>The method that eventually was settled on, after getting advice from both Grunott and Garnott, was for Harry to sign off on a form that allowed Gringotts to go after the people who instigated the whole ordeal and claim the stolen money back, with interest applied on top of everything else. They would have a full year and a half, from the date the form was signed by Harry and his Account Manager, to repay everything in full, or else Gringotts would get the Ministry involved to start claiming estates so they could pay off their debts. </p><p>Harry felt it was a reasonable request, but asked if it was possible to allow certain allowances to prevent anyone from ending up on the streets should they be unable to pay off the debt. Harry got called soft-hearted for that request, but when Harry refused to back down, it was eventually added and the form was signed. </p><p>Once Naglok shut his folder and leaned back in his chair, Garnott opened the file next to her and started talking to Harry about some of the things he had control over when it came to Slytherin finances, and asked what he wanted to do with it all. There was much he couldn’t do with the Slytherin Vaults, since he was only the Acting Heir and had no legal ability to manipulate the main Vaults, but he had a small ability to manipulate a few of the smaller Vaults. Garnott didn’t seem pleased when Harry didn’t have much to do with the account, but readily agreed to an experimental Vault like the one the Potters had. There really wasn’t much else he could do with the Vaults, and Harry didn’t feel comfortable taking money out of a Vault that only had access to based upon a technicality- Garnott understood that well enough and didn’t begrudge Harry for.</p><p>Gruknott apologized for still being in the process of still performing the audits, but was kind enough to explain the current findings for the Peverell Vaults and Estates- of which, there were only two. </p><p>Moonlit Spires was located somewhere unplottable, meaning it couldn’t be located by normal or magical means and needed special methods to reach, and it consisted of seven different towers, with one in the very center. Each of those seven towers was connected to each other by your traditional wood-and-rope bridge, and Harry thought it seemed a little overkill and unsafe, but Gruknott was more than happy to inform him that the estate was well guarded, and that the Peverells had been known for their inventive rune work, and that the protections on the estate were still holding strong. The only thing that stopped Harry from being able to move into there right away was that the location was under a strange variation of a Fidelius Charm, and not even the Curse Breakers employed by Gringotts had been able to get the place to remain for more than a few seconds.</p><p>The other Peverell estate, Peverell Manor, was still being relocated by the Goblins. Harry didn’t feel comfortable asking why a Manor needed to be relocated when he noticed the dark and angry look on Gruknott’s face. He had questions, and plenty of them, but he also valued his life. The Goblins might have been kind enough to him so far, but the last thing Harry wanted to do was to anger one of them.</p><p>The meeting was wrapped up quickly enough, and all three Goblins seemed genuinely surprised when Harry agreed with their ideas on how best to proceed with his money. It was only logical, Harry figured, to trust the judgement of the Goblins. From what he had read, their entire culture was based upon honor and money, and Harry knew he knew next to nothing about money- all he knew was that you needed to work to obtain money, and putting enough money into the right hands of certain people made things happen easier.</p><p>Uncle Vernon had been very pleased when Dudley had learned that lesson. The man had been even more pleased when Dudley had used it to a semi-effective goal, although he’d been less than pleased to learn the amount that Dudley had spent on something as simple as getting extra treats from one of his classmates. </p><p>The Goblins, much to Harry’s surprise, admitted that when access to Vaults get changed, all parties involved get a notice, and that the Goblins had done what they could to delay the notice, but that even they have to send them off eventually. Harry had been understanding of everything, and asked which parties got a notice since he never received a piece of mail from Gringotts. </p><p>As it turned out, because Harry’s access to his own Vaults had been restored the very same day that he had gotten Cleansed, the Goblins had no need to send him a notice. He had been there in person, after all. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was sent a notice since he was the only other person who had access to withdrawal money from the Potters. </p><p>The Ministry was notified only as a courtesy, and because the Goblins wanted to make them aware of the fraud that had been happening for years involving the Potters. </p><p>Perhaps, Harry realized, that was why Lord Malfoy mentioned in his letter that Dumbledore had to specify that Harry had given his consent to the Wizengamot. The Goblins seemed to agree, and were happy that the Ministry was where Harry was going to go once everything at the bank was concluded.</p><p>(The Goblins were quick to make copies of some of the irregularities in his Vaults and of his oath under the Magic of Gringotts that Harry had never given Albus Dumbledore permission to use anything of his. Harry didn’t want to have to use them, but he understood that he was also considered a child, and that Albus Dumbledore had been his Magical Guardian. He hadn’t been seen in the Wizarding World since the night his parents had died, and Dumbledore made claims of seeing to his health- of which, the Goblins also included a copy of his health scans for the Minister to view.)</p><p>The Ministry of Magic, once Harry entered the Telephone box the Goblins advised him to and stated his purpose, was just as grand as Gringotts on the inside. Harry felt bad for bothering a nearby Witch once he exited the telephone booth to ask for directions, but was very politely directed to the other end of the Atrium where the person on duty would help direct him to whichever floor he needed to go to.</p><p>Eric Munch was a friendly wizard who, after asking for Harry’s wand so he could register it and briefcase to be searched and happily explaining why it needed to happen for security purposes, was more than happy to inform him of which Lift he would need to take to talk to the Minister’s support staff about his Wizengamot seats. Level One, Harry learned, was for the Minister of Magic and his Support Staff, but the board of Education also had offices there, and Harry was very, very uncomfortable with all of it.</p><p>How did someone even approach the subject he was wanting to bring up without feeling like they were in trouble? </p><p>Still, he needed Dumbledore to stop using his Wizengamot seats (not that Harry had even stopped to think he had any when he first learned of everything). The only way to do that was to talk to the Minister himself, since Harry was still underaged and he didn’t have a proxy to assign. The Minister would, once Harry explained himself and asked for it, label each of his seats as unavailable and prevent anyone from sitting in them.</p><p>Lady Magic would prevent anyone from using the Slytherin and Peverell seats unless they were Lord Slytherin himself, and Harry briefly entertained the thought of <em> that </em> as he waited for the lift to bring him to Level One, or Harry himself. It would have caused undo chaos and mayhem, and Harry thought while it might have been funny for <em> Voldemort </em> of all people to sit in the Wizengamot meetings, he hoped that the man was smarter than that and was waiting for something big to happen first.</p><p>Once the lift stopped and opened up, Harry was greeted by a desk and someone dressed all up in a very gaudy pink, and Harry had to stop himself from shivering at the briefest flashback to Ms. Figg and the one time she had tried to play doll with Harry. He still had nightmares about the day, and it had happened years ago. </p><p>Dolores Umbridge, her name plate read, and Harry made a note to try and be on his best behaviour. It would be hard since he really only had what Draco and the Goblins had told him to work off of, but he hoped that his young age would work for him and not against him.</p><p>“Are you lost, Mr…?” The woman, who Harry guessed was the Undersecretary based on what little knowledge he had on how the Ministry was run, asked with a frown and peered over her desk. </p><p>“Hadrian Peverell-Potter, Ma’am.” Harry greeted as politely as could. “I’m hoping I could talk to someone about removing my Magical Guardian from my seats on the Wizengamot, and sealing the rest of them so no one can claim them. I’d also like to remove the man as my Magical Guardian for negligence. I was told Level One was the floor I needed to go to, but I’m unsure of where exactly I need to go, or if I need to schedule a meeting. Could you help me with that, ma’am?”</p><p>“I see…” Umbridge looked a little lost in thought, but quickly made a ‘hem hem’ kind of coughing sound with the back of her throat. “And do you have any proof to back up your claim, Mr. Potter?” </p><p>Here, Harry removed his headband and allowed his scar to show, and pocketed it while he remained inside. “I’m afraid, other than this, I’m not quite sure how to verify my own identity, Ma’am. As for the rest, I’m afraid I’ve only just entered the Magical World for the first time in my life- well, second if we include when I was born. It was the Goblins who-” Harry noticed that Umbridge’s face closed off with a sneer at the mention of Goblins, and made another mental note to try to keep mention of them to a minimum around her, “made sure that I knew enough of the Wizarding world to function at the minimum. I was fortunate enough to run into an Heir of the Sacred 28 while shopping for school supplies, and they have been most kind to assist me with everything else.”</p><p>“I see, Mr. Potter.” Harry didn’t try to fight the woman on the proper use of his name, it seemed pointless, and Umbridge seemed like a woman who angered easily, and she had made that ‘hem hem’ noise again. “Unfortunately, only the Minister would be able to help you with that, and he’s currently in a meeting. There is, however, an opening in his schedule that would allow you to talk with him after, would this be alright?”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am. Is there anywhere I should stay while I wait?” Here, Umbridge merely motioned to the numerous benches that lined the walls, and Harry made sure to not fidget while he waited. Thankfully, he had his briefcase with him and pulled out one of the numerous books he had and began to read, half wishing he had brought Hedwig with him if only so he could run his fingers through her feathers and listen to her coo. </p><p>After hat felt like slowly grinding hours, Umbridge called out to Harry to tell him that the Minister would be seeing with him now, and that he was in ‘room number eight, his office is a little unfit for company at the moment’. Harry didn’t ask questions he really didn’t want answers to, no matter how curious he was about that. </p><p>Room number eight was just as grand as the rest of the Ministry, but it was small enough to be cosy without feeling crowded. The Minister was a portly little man who seemed to be all smiles, but something didn’t quite sit right with Harry, and it put him on edge. </p><p>“I’m going to be honest, Mr. Potter,” The Minister began, sounding just a bit surprised. “When Dolores told me that you wished to speak with me, I thought it a joke. Yet here you stand. Come, come,” The Minister motioned for Harry to take a seat. “Would you like tea? I have more tea leaves than I know what to do with, you know. I currently have Valerian available, my last guest was a nervous wreck, but you also look nervous. I promise you, Mr. Potter, that you won’t be put to sleep with his tea. I mostly use it myself to keep my blood pressure low- terribly stressful work, being Minister of Magic here in Britain.”</p><p>“Thank you, Minister.” Harry offered up a small smile. “Valerian Tea sounds wonderful. I’m afraid that I have news that may be just as stressing, unfortunately, and that while I would love to spend the time for pleasantries and good company, I am in urgent need of your assistance.”</p><p>“Well, Mr. Potter,” The Minister said while pouring out a cup for Harry, “I’m afraid that depending on your request, there may not be much I can do. I will, however, do what I can to assist this world’s Saviour.” It was a jab, Harry realized, at how young Harry was and how the Minister didn’t believe that any trouble he could have had would be worth going straight to the Minister about, but that the man would do what he could given the situation- even had it off to someone else if it was below his station.</p><p>Harry didn’t think he’d mind it too much, if he wasn’t in such desperate need to be rid of Dumbledore as his Magical Guardian. Harry refused to go back to the Dursleys, and he refused to allow the man to continue voting in such dangerous ways using his own name.</p><p>“Thank you, Minister.” Harry inclined his head just enough to convey that the gratefulness was genuine, and that Harry considered the Minister above him in terms of authority and was apologetic for the potential waste of his time. Trying to recall everything he’d read about being proper and Lord Malfoy’s recommendations on how to phrase certain things, Harry carefully offered up “I have need to remove Albus Dumbledore from his role as my Magical Guardian, and to remove him from my seats on the Wizengamot. As I have no current Proxy for those seats, however, I would also need them to be sealed up until such a time that I either sit on the seats myself, or designate a proxy. I understand that you might be the only one who can help me with this.”</p><p>Harry didn’t blame the Minister for his pause in responding, nor did he blame the Minister for just about overfilling his cup of tea. Harry imagined that he had just dropped a pretty big metaphorical bomb onto the man; Harry had read all about how Albus Dumbledore was something called a Chief Warlock, but Harry had yet to fully read up on that title. There was also the Mugwump title, or something similar enough to that, and Harry had even less knowledge on that than the Chief Warlock.</p><p>“May I enquire as to why you wish to remove your Magical Guardian from his role as such, Mr. Potter?” The Minister asked once he fixed the mess with the tea and they both had a cup. It smelt divine, Harry realized as he picked it up and took a sip once the Minster had done so. A mix of something like ginger, but more airy, and the taste was soothing and sweet. </p><p>Harry could understand the use of Valerian in the Draught of Peace if this was what it did being made into a tea. Of course, Harry couldn’t ignore that Valerian roots, which the tea was made from, were also an ingredient in the Draught of Living Death.</p><p>Instead of answering directly, Harry sat his cup of tea down and placed his briefcase onto his lap, opening it long enough to grab the records the Goblins had copied over for him, and placed them on the table, facing the Minister so he could read them at his leisure. Picking up his cup of tea again, Harry kept careful watch of the Minister’s face as he read over everything. </p><p>The Minister's face started off with blank curiosity at why Harry wouldn’t offer up verbal reasons, and quickly morphed into panic, then slowly changed into horrid anger and disbelief. Eventually, the man had to stop reading to take a couple sips from his tea, and closed his eyes. </p><p>Harry had seen that reaction enough on Uncle Vernon’s face that he knew the Minister didn’t want to believe what was being read, but that the Goblin’s official seal meant that it was all legitimate and not forged.</p><p>“First, I must offer up an apology, Lord Peverell-Potter.” The Minister spoke after a couple minutes of silence. “I truly meant you no offense.”</p><p>“I understand, Minister.” Harry smiled again. “I promise I took no offense. This is a recent development, as I was unaware of everything until I entered the Wizarding world just a few days ago.”</p><p>“I have yet to read through the whole list. May I enquire as to why you felt the need to see me, if you are brand new to the Wizarding world? What happened?” The Minister was eyeing the parchment he had just set down with a weariness that it almost made Harry laugh. He would have, if Harry hadn’t known exactly what was on it, and felt that laughing would diminish what he was trying to accomplish here. </p><p>“I was shopping for my school supplies for Hogwarts,” Harry began slowly, unsure about how much he should reveal, and decided to stick with the truth. He informed the Minister of how he had been with Hagrid- and that he only realized in hindsight that Hagrid had no authority to do that whatsoever. He talked about how the Goblins had taken him to a room to question him fully about everything, and then had made him take an inheritance test, where all parties involved found that Lady Magic had renamed him to being Lord Peverell-Potter, Heir Black, and Acting Heir for Slytherin. </p><p>Here, the Minister nodded his head, and said something about how the seats had reappeared in the Wizengamot room, and how he had been curious about who could claim them. When Harry asked for discretion on that matter, the Minister was quick to chime in with how he also wanted to avoid mass panic over the fact that it was well known that ‘You-Know-Who’ had been Lord Slytherin, and if asked would state that Heir Slytherin and Lord Peverell had come together and asked for privacy in their affairs before they joined the Wizengamot or assigned a proxy. When asked about how Harry wanted to go about dealing with the Potter and Black seats, he asked the Minister to say something about how he had asked for the seats to be sealed until he joined the Wizengamot proper, and that it was unlikely that he would assigning a proxy any time soon- he still had to find someone he trusted to vote in his stead, after all. </p><p>Once the note had been written down, Harry continued on with his story. Once the inheritance test had been done, confirming who he was, the Goblins went over his medical records- to prove that Harry had been under his own will in coming to them- and discovered the numerous years of abuse he had suffered. The Goblins had offered up their Cleansing Ritual chamber to him for healing, so he was good there. Harry told the Minister about leaving Gringotts and running into Heir Malfoy, and of how Draco had been kind enough to offer up his correspondence with him so Harry could learn what he couldn’t from books- and here Harry offered up one of the books he’d bought on Pureblood Culture and polite society, and watched the Minister’s mouth twitch into a smile. </p><p>Harry even showed the Minister the first letter Lord Malfoy had sent him, which stated that he had been under the impression that Harry had a good head on his shoulders from the numerous talks of politics that he and Draco would get into, and wondered about Albus Dumbledore’s decision to vote using the Potter-Black seats to try and vote for something that had a very, very high chance of starting a war between the Centaurs and Wizards.</p><p>Harry was aware that the letter mentioned his seats on the Wizengamot for Peverell and Slytherin, but Harry figured that the damage done on that was negligible at least. The only thing that was mentioned was that those who tried to sit on them- no names were given- were given a painful shock, and that Dumbledore had been eyeing them fiercely.</p><p>Nothing that would reflect poorly on Lord Malfoy was in the letter, which was one of the only reasons that Harry had been willing to reveal the letter to the Minister. </p><p>By the time that Harry was done explaining everything to the Minister, the man’s shoulders had slumped and he was again eyeing the parchment that Harry had given him. </p><p>“I will do what I can to seal your seats, Lord Peverell-Potter.” The Minister said after a few more minutes of quiet. “As for the rest of this… I’m going to have to get Law Enforcement in on this and they’ll have to investigate these. Lord Peverell-Potter, may we use these,” The Minister motioned to the parchment that was still lying where it had been set down in anger, “to begin our investigations?”</p><p>Harry agreed easily enough, and made sure to make an off-hand comment about how he worried that if Dumbledore was willing to do all this to him- someone who the entirety of the Wizarding world knew of and would be keen to keep an eye on- then who else had the Headmaster had done it to and gotten away with. Harry had made sure to include the man’s role as Headmaster of Hogwarts, a position that would grant him access to every single student who entered the school for seven years. </p><p>The Minister’s face paled greatly, and Harry couldn’t find it in himself to feel about that. He’d even thrown in there, at some point, about how his Uncle and Cousin hated magic and took any chance they could to beat the freakishness out of him. If Dumbledore had visited him, and Harry couldn’t deny the possibility that <em> maybe </em> the man had visited him once or twice and he just couldn’t recall, then he had to have known about his particular living conditions- his Hogwarts letter had even been addressed to ‘The Cupboard under the Stairs’- and had been keeping silent.</p><p>Once the meeting was wrapped up, with a promise from the Minister to keep Harry updated on the proceedings of everything, Harry went back to Diagon Alley with his headband back on his head. He had a full three days to himself, and nothing to do except to hole himself up in his room at the Leaky Cauldron and read. Hedwig would enjoy that, but Harry always kept the window open for her- and Tom had even agreed to not shut the window once Harry had explained that part- and he wanted to do something different for once.</p><p>He had a briefcase that, if he opened it, practically begged to be filled with a few more things he could learn from, and a refilling trust-vault that the Naglok wanted him to use to his heart's desire. Apparently, the Potter’s interest rate brought in enough that it was able to fill the trust vault with plenty more to spare.</p><p>The only problem was how crowded Diagon Alley was, and Harry didn’t particularly enjoy just how easy it was to get himself lost inside the crowds or how easy it was to get slammed into another person just by trying to take a step forward. Hagrid, Harry supposed, had at least one good point about him: His giant size made it easy for people to move out of his way, and walking from one place to another was easy with him around. </p><p>Harry eventually managed to duck into an alleyway that wasn’t crowded, and managed to catch his breath. Following the alleyway, Harry kept his briefcase close to him and felt grounded in a small tidbit of knowledge that Tom had passed on about how silly Wizards and Witches were. </p><p>
  <em> “They don’t consider a fisticuff a real thing that can happen, and most will promptly remain stunned for a few minutes trying to figure out what happened if you give them a good punch, kid.” </em>
</p><p>It seemed silly to Harry, but he had to concede the point. If someone grew to rely on their wands to do everything, something as simple as punching another person seemed ridiculous. There would be ‘better, more magical ways’ of doing the same thing after all.</p><p>At the end of the alleyway, Harry found himself in a street like Diagon, only it was charmed to look like night, and there was hardly a crowd around. Sure, there were people loitering in the streets, and plenty of people walking around, but it felt more relaxed than Diagon.</p><p>Harry could have done without the drunkards sneering at him and making comments, but he ignored those and took a look around, figuring that there was no better way to waste his time than exploring. The very first place that caught Harry’s attention, morbidly enough, was the store he excited next to, called The Coffin House.</p><p>It had a slogan that had Harry feeling like it didn’t actually deal with coffins, but he supposed that it was harmless enough to enter and look around, even if he wasn’t shopping for someone's funeral. </p><p>Harry was greeted warmly enough he opened the door, although the shopkeeper did raise a brow at him. Harry figured that it had something to do with how young he was, because the man even asked if Harry was looking for things to deal with Necromancy, or if he was just shopping for someone's Coffin- because Coffins were bought three stores over at E.L.M and Wizards Undertakers and Embalming, and customized at the Coffin House.</p><p>“No, sir.” Harry responded, ignoring the sharp-tooth grin that was the response. “I’m just looking around. I don’t think I’d be able to have anything from this store at Hogwarts. Not without getting into serious trouble, at least.” Harry got laughed at, but it sounded friendly enough of a laughter that Harry didn’t mind too much. Besides, he wasn’t actually interested in Necromancy. He had read about magic’s law of equal exchange, and about the creatures known as Infernus. It seemed like a nice enough of a branch of magic, and one that had the potential to help those who recently lost loved once put behind their grief, but some of the requirements for Necromancy didn’t appeal to him- although if Lady Magic had turned his blood to make him a Peverell, then that branch of magic should come easily enough to him.</p><p>Aside from all that, Harry didn’t trust himself to not mess up if he tried Necromancy, as it appeared to have multiple steps involved spanning over the course of the weeks before. The shop owner tried to push an item onto him, a small bone-like object that was positively dripping in magic, claiming that if he used it as a focus of sorts, he could talk to his ancestors without having to wait for the Samhain rituals, and that it worked ‘nearly ninety percent of time without complications’.</p><p>Harry declined it, saying that he didn’t mind waiting and that he would be busy enough with school that he didn’t feel comfortable trying to hold onto the object. He did, however, make sure to buy a few candles that were advertised to ‘cleanse the air of impurities’, if only to not offend the store owner by walking out with nothing after wasting a bit of his time. Harry was willing to bet the candles were a scam, but the scents of each were worth it, and they only cost 12 Sickles a piece. </p><p>Pocketing them into his briefcase, Harry left the store and decided to try the next interestingly-named building he came across, which turned out to be a shabby little store with a name that was faded in multiple places, but had a sign in the window that clearly stated ‘We’re OPEN, all day and night! Come by and see for yourself that Ye Olde Curiosity is still up and running!’ There was even a small print under it mentioning that, yes, the trade exchange was still ongoing, and please stop asking about unicorn blood because it would never get stocked. </p><p>The store was well stocked in many, many places, but the shopkeeper had outright informed Harry that ‘this store is no place for young boys, and I won’t be liable for selling you something that can harm you. You can look, though. I can’t begrudge you that.’</p><p>It was nice of the shopkeeper, Harry supposed, and despite the few other customers in the store, the man was nice enough to explain a few things to him if he pointed out what had caught his eye. </p><p>The pattern of Harry entering a store and browsing around continued on a for some time, and Harry always made to be polite to the ones who informed him that they don’t sell to children for liability reasons, and had even been willing to hand over his briefcase at one point- just so the shopkeeper could confirm that Harry wasn’t about to try and pocket something that he didn’t need to be stealing. Harry had made sure to warn the man of the enchantments, as was common courtesy, but all the man did was place the briefcase under his desk and hand it back once Harry was down browsing and given the magical version of a pat-down to verify that Harry hadn’t tried to pocket anything.</p><p>A few people laughed, but Harry ignored them. He’d been allowed to buy a few odds and ends that seemed innocuous enough, but he had been warned by quite a few shopkeepers that he needed to be careful in Hogwarts to make sure that he didn’t get into trouble for the imagery of some of his trinkets.</p><p>Some of the Shopkeepers had been surprised when Harry had walked up to the register and asked to be rung up, and he had gotten the impression that a good deal of people in Knockturn- because where else could he have ended up, with the free talks of ‘Dark Magic’ that was banned by the Ministry that was going on in the open- tried to run without paying. </p><p>It had taken Harry a little longer than he would have liked to realize that Knockturn Alley was charmed to be eternally unchanging in it’s time of day, and that he was long over-due to return to the Leaky Cauldron. It had taken him even longer to realize that he had no idea where in Knockturn he was, and had to stop to ask others on multiple occasions.</p><p>By the time Harry had finally gotten back to the Leaky Cauldron, the sun had long set and Hedwig had moved from his room to the open pub, where she hooted and glard in disapproval at Harry the moment he stepped into the pub. Tom, whose last few customers were either too drunk to be moved safely, didn’t hesitate to take one look at the sheepish look on his face, take a sniff, and then laugh. It was a full, deel belly-aching laugh that echoed in the room, and it startled Hedwig enough that she jumped from the make-shift perch that had been made for her and flew onto Harry’s shoulder.</p><p>“You lock whatever you bought in that Alley up good, you hear me, kid?” Tom said once his laughter died down. “I don’t particularly care that you were there. Despite what some might say, Knockturn is a good enough of a place as long as you keep your head down, don’t stick your nose into trouble, bring trouble into it, or try to rob the stores. The majority of the mess the drunks cause can be ignored by just keeping to the main roads.”</p><p>Harry blinked twice before he found his voice, just a little amused. </p><p>“You sure you’re alright with it?”</p><p>“Kid, I might not look it, but I’m as pureblood as they can get without actually being old-blood.” Tom huffed out and turned back to wrapping up the last of his dishwashing. “I honor the old ways, and Knockturn is one of the few places where the rituals are still taking place. You want to wander around Knockturn, kid? Go ahead. Just keep your wits about you and don’t let anyone force you into something.” Harry felt himself relax, and offered up a half-hearted glare to Hedwig when she decided to stop being offended by Tom’s laughter and turned to groom his messy hair.</p><p>“Let me tell you a small story, kid.” Tom said after a moment of silence. “It’s about you, and why Knockturn Alley may be one of the safest places for you at the moment.” When Tom motioned for Harry to go and take a seat at the counter, Harry did so without complaint, and placed his briefcase onto his lap.</p><p>Once Harry settled down, Tom got out the ingredients for hot chocolate, and started to talk about an old story whispered from adult to child in Knockturn about the Peverells would return to ‘right the wrongs in Magic’, and how the Gaunts and Peverell were, historically, as close to sibling bloodlines as one could possibly get. How, when a not-yet Lord Slytherin finally stepped forth and confessed himself as both Heir of Slytherin and last of the Gaunts, and how he would fix the wrongs that Albus Dumbledore was enforcing on the Magical World, there was a lot of people who were willing to swear themselves to loyalty for the mere <em> hope </em> he gave people. How Lord Slytherin had never ignored the dangers Muggles proposed to the Magical world, and how he wished to create an early education system for muggle-born children and their families as both a way to help them catch up to their pureblood brethren, but also to educate them in why the Magical world had to be kept a secret from the mundane.</p><p>Harry listened in rapt attention as Tom explained how Lord Slytherin had tried his hands at a peaceful, diplomatic route and got turned down harshly at every corner. How, even in spite of all the nasty rumors going around and about, Lord Slytherin refused to resort to violence and kept himself calm. How the man had never used hurtful words when they were flung at him, and had responded calmly in each and every single debate with solid, provable facts and their proof. How Lord Slytherin had gotten so far, but then was rebuked by the Chief Warlock for having dared to be Slytherin and, thus, have a power that the man couldn’t obtain.</p><p>Harry listened as Tom explained how Lord Slytherin had been tracking down the Peverell Bloodline, which had gone extinct, and had been wanting to speak to the Potters- who were descendants of the Peverells, but had never once shown the gift of the Peverell bloodline. Tom mentioned how no one knew what had happened that night, just that it ended up with two dead Potters, a missing Lord Slytherin, and an infant being heralded as the Wizarding World's bright new Saviour. </p><p>“Those of us with a brain cell between our brains won’t hold it against you, kid.” Tom finished the story off with a wry grin. “They might be angry you were the last person who saw their Lord alive, but they won’t attack you. The simple fact that Lady Magic felt the need to name you Peverell… Well, anyone with a brain cell, we’ll figure that whatever Lord Slytherin was planning to do that night, it didn’t involve harming you. They might not like you too much, kid, but you’ve got the loyalty of those of us who believe in the stories.” </p><p>“Don’t let that old coot who calls himself your Headmaster get the better of you, kid.” Tom warms once the last of the drunk customers are either put to their rooms or left outside on the street. “Propaganda, which is written by the victors, says that Lord Slytherin never got close to completing his tasks, and that he wants Muggleborns to all die. It just isn’t the case- I would know, I never took the mark, but my sister did. I met with the man plenty of times, mostly to check up on the little brat, bless her soul. Lord Slytherin came very, very close; he just couldn’t overcome a man who manipulated and raged war with, and against, Grindelwald.”</p><p>Harry wasn’t too sure what to make of all that, but agreed to keep a careful eye out on the Dumbledore. Tom had spoken more than he usually had- especially once his working hours were done and over with, and it unnerved him a fair bit. Still, with everything that Harry had been learning of Albus Dumbledore, he didn’t think that being paranoid was the least of his issues when it came to that man.</p><p>Even so, Harry kept to himself his vague memories of the night his parents died. Of the green flashes, the fuzzy moving people, the clipped and distorted words of his mother begging for her only son’s life. Not only did Harry not fully understand them, but even the Goblins were confused about how Harry could recall such an event.</p><p>It was only with a slightly guilty heart that Harry drifted off to sleep in his bed.</p><p>By the time September First rolled around, just about all of the regulars at the Leaky Cauldron had come by to see him off- even Professor Quirrell, who had arrived super early in the morning to wish him well travels, and that if the train ride was still as long as it used to be, then he couldn’t go wrong with preparing a non-sugary snack beforehand to bring with him. </p><p>It was almost comical to watch the regulars that Harry had familiarized himself with try to all bid him a wonderful school year, and that they would miss him. Tom had even taken to calling in a friend of his from a pub in Knockturn that somehow, Harry had managed to miss entirely on longer-than-intended jaunt through, just so he could make sure Harry got to the right destination via the Fireplace Floo System- which was normally off-limits to customers, being inside of Tom’s personal room itself. </p><p>It wasn’t necessary, Harry managed to get through just fine on his own. The issue Harry hadn’t been expecting, nor had he been warned of, was the sheer nauseating sensation of everything spinning after he exited. He managed to stumble to a bench and sit down just before everything went askew, and Harry was pretty certain he only black out for a single moment, but it was enough to watch terror flash across Tom’s ugly mug just as he stepped out from the same fireplace. Thankfully, Harry had only blacked out for a moment and didn’t fall over. It didn’t stop from casting a few charms on him just to double check, however, and Harry just offered up a half-hearted smile when Tom muttered to himself about how everything was alright. </p><p>Parting at the train station was harder than Harry thought it was going to be, but a promise of constant letters helped ease a bit of the uncertain aching he was feeling. That, and the remembrance of the promise he had given Draco about meeting up on the train so he could finally meet these mysterious friends of his.</p><p>It hadn’t taken Harry long to find Draco once he was on the train. The two of them practically ran right into each other as Harry was looking for a compartment that was empty enough he could try to get out of the crowded hallways, and Harry nearly lost his balance and tumbled forwards when Draco grabbed his arm to lead him to where there was already a claimed compartment for him and the friends that Draco wanted to introduce him to.</p><p>It was just a bit awkward, but no less different than when Draco had been introducing him to his parents, and Harry was polite enough to remember that there was a difference between greeting someone older than him and greeting someone in his own age bracket. </p><p>The first person Harry is introduced to is a boy named Blaise Zabini, and Harry couldn’t help but return the sharp-eyed gaze and amused half-smirk that was thrown his way. Theodore Nott is introduced next, and Harry can’t help but notice just how quiet and small Nott is compared to everyone in the cabin, except for maybe Harry himself, who is still recovering from the life that Uncle Vernon had tried to force upon him for good. Daphne Greengrass, Harry discovered very quickly, was more bite than bark, and had the same elegant, yet dangerous, poise that Lady Malfoy had.</p><p>Everyone seemed surprised when Draco introduced Harry as Peverell-Potter, but nobody really made a comment on it. Instead, Zabini told Harry to get into the cabin, shut the door, and take a seat while Greengrass asked about Harry’s missing trunk.</p><p>“I have everything right here,” Harry lifted the briefcase, a feeling of nervousness crept into him. People were supposed to have trunks to store their belongings in, but the shopkeeper who had sold him his case had mentioned that backpacks and briefcases were also acceptable, although less commonly used. “Hedwig’s gone off to fly on her own, though. She’s my owl.”</p><p>Hedwig had been very vocal about not being stuck in her travel cage, and after an hour of fighting a losing battle, Hedwig took the choice right out of his hands by flying out of the window he had forgotten to close. Tom had spent a good ten minutes laughing at him, as did Professor Quirrell when he learned of what had happened. </p><p>There’s no moment of awkward silence that Harry would have expected of a close-knit group who had a stranger thrust upon them, and it’s Draco that starts off the conversations much like he had while at Madam Malkin’s. It’s an easy thing to have the conversations wash over him, and it’s easy enough to let himself be pulled along with the tide and offer up his own opinions on things when asked for it. Aside from him, Nott also keeps mostly to himself and listens in as Greengrass and Zabini both begin to argue over something that Harry hadn’t quite followed along well enough to catch. Beside him, Draco is laughing and smiling, and Harry can’t help but smile along- which only seems to serve to rile up Greengrass, although she and Zabini both look amused.</p><p><br/>So far removed from the young boy he was, who hid in the cupboard. He had friends now, and no one seemed to be upset that he was suddenly included into their little group- and that’s what it was, Harry realized. A group of kids who could safely call themselves friends; despite Nott’s quietness and Draco commandeering the conversation to steer it to other topics, everyone in the room seems happy with each other.</p><p>The atmosphere isn’t even disturbed when Nott, who's looking out the window at and watching as the last-rush of soon-to-be Hogwarts students clamor into the train, points out a gaggle of redheads who all look equally upset and worried. There’s a comment about how ‘You’d think they’d realize they need to actually get on the train to get to Hogwarts, what with how many times they’ve had to do this already’ from someone in the room, and Harry faintly wonders if the quiet voice is either Greengrass’ quiet mockery, or Nott’s seemingly normal tones. </p><p>Harry doesn’t need to look at Draco to know there’s a sneer on his face when he hears him say “Yeah, well, what do you expect from a bunch of Weasleys? They can’t do anything right, it’s a wonder they can even afford to pay the fees to attend Hogwarts.”</p><p>Harry, wisely, keeps his thoughts to himself. If having to put in extra work to earn enough money to get their children to school was the biggest issue that was had with them, then Harry had a hard time understanding the hate. Of course, he also didn’t really know much about the Weasleys, aside from the alarmingly small amount of information that was written in his numerous books on Purebloods- and an even smaller mention in the Sacred 28 about farming.</p><p>Harry is pulled out of his musings when Zabini asks about Harry’s scar, and it takes Harry all of three seconds to realize that he had yet to take off the headband that Tom had given him for work. A little sheepishly, he removes it and puts it into his pocket, and mentions that he wears the headband to keep people from swarming him in the middle of the streets. Zabini comments on how useful it must be, and that it’s probably best to wear it during something he calls the ‘Sorting’. </p><p>“Just in case the headmaster doesn’t change your name back to Potter on the roll call.” Zabini adds almost as an afterthought, which gets Greengrass to turn her disapproving stare away from the four Weasley siblings who were now making their way to the train.</p><p>“It had better be Peverell on the roll call!” Greengrass almost huffs. “It’s the most prestigious of his names! Anything else, and you know the Headmaster sabotaged the system to play his people-chess game.”</p><p>Draco frowns, and before Harry can ask what Greengrass means by her statement of people-chess, he nods his head and tells Harry that he should keep his wits about him to prevent the Headmaster from playing games with him. Oh, and that Harry should avoid looking directly into the Headmaster’s eyes, since the man was rumored to be a very skilled Legilimens- that is, to say, able to peer into someone’s mind to learn their memories and thoughts, but only through their eyes.</p><p>Harry wasn’t sure what to think about that, and made a verbal promise to avoid looking straight into Dumbledore’s eyes. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that particular ability, but figured that if there was a skill that let you look into someone's mind, there was a skill to protect your own mind. Occlumency, Harry discovered once he asked, was that skill, and both Draco promised to help him out in that regard, regardless of which House he got sent into.</p><p>Harry didn’t get much of a chance to say anything else as the train started to move with a jerk, and Harry found himself enraptured watching the scenery slowly change by. Almost as quickly, however, the peace was ruined by someone throwing open the cabin door and asking if anyone had seen Harry Potter.</p><p>That someone, Harry noticed from the reflection off the window, was one of the four redheads who had arrived shortly before the train departed, and Harry didn’t need to turn around to feel how Draco had stiffened.</p><p>Thankfully, Zabini spoke up before Draco could say anything that might have been considered rude. Unfortunately, Zabini held no regard for the redheaded Weasley’s feelings and started to berate the kid for not even bothering to be polite enough to knock on the door, but what did one expect from someone like him.</p><p>“Just answer the damn question, you Death Eater spawns.” The Weasley ground out, his face almost as red as his hair, and Harry couldn’t help but turn around just to see for himself that the reflection wasn’t lying. “Have any of you seen Harry Potter? Either he hasn’t gotten on the train yet, or I have to save him before he makes the mistake of trying to befriend you lot out of some kind of misplaced sense of kinship.”</p><p>Whatever reservations Harry had about withholding judgement on the kid were gone with those words, and Harry couldn’t help the half angry frown that no doubt overcame his face. It was just a little bit baffling, however, that Draco seemed to take glee in the Weasley's words, and performed another set of introductions. </p><p>“Hadrian, this is, no doubt judging by the red hair, hand-me-down clothes, and vacant expression, the second youngest of the Weasley brood, Ronald Weasley.” Draco motioned to Weasley. “Don’t let them fool you, their whole family are considered Blood Traitors, but I hear rumors about the eldest five.” Draco then turned to Weasley, barely managing to keep the sneer off his face. “Weasley, allow me to introduce you to Hadrian Peverell-Potter, the missing Harry Potter that you seem so keen to save. Here he is, sitting nice and pretty. You still need to save him?”</p><p>There was no recognition of the Peverell name in Weasley’s eyes, and while Harry was grateful for it, he was not so at the flush of indignant anger that filled the redhead, nor did he enjoy the quick flash upwards to his scar for the confirmation on what Draco had said. Harry was even less amused at the next words that came out of the kid’s mouth.</p><p>“What are you doing with these soon-to-be slimy snakes, Harry? Their parents all worked for You-Know-Who!” Weasley seemed terribly offended by it, but Harry couldn’t figure out why. “They’re trying to corrupt you!”</p><p>“My family remained Neutral, Weasley.” Zabini’s amusement was gone, replaced by something that was just shy of pure, cold anger. “I’d be careful of what you speak of. More to that, we were having a pleasant conversation about nothing to do with the war before you barged in.”</p><p>“And everyone knows that my father was under the Imperius Curse.” Draco added, sounding just a little bit pained. “His innocence was proven by the Wizengamot.”</p><p>“If I were you,” Harry cut in just as Weasley began to open his mouth, “I would leave. You’re only upsetting people here, and I assure you that I’m doing quite well. The only danger to me, right now, is from what comes from you.” Weasley seemed genuinely surprised by Harry’s words, and he grumbled something to himself before turning his attention back to Harry and declaring that Dumbledore would ‘sort this issue out, you’ll see. You won’t have to suffer these snakes much longer’.</p><p>Harry didn’t mention that Weasley’s words sounded like a death threat until he had left and the door was shut again. Nott agreed with him, but Draco asked what someone like Weasley could even try to do, then laughed to himself. </p><p>“What did the Weasley’s even do that got them considered Blood Traitors, by the way?” Harry asked after a few minutes of debate from Zabini and Draco over something or other involving Quidditch, the topic having been changed to a much lighter one. “The books I’ve been able to read never make them more than a footnote, or just leave it at their agricultural breakthroughs.”</p><p>There was a split second of tense and awkward silence, and Harry was about to open his mouth to apologize and inform the cabin to ignore him to hopefully ask for forgiveness in whatever blunder he may have just made, but Draco beat him to it.</p><p>“No, after what my ancestors did, I doubt there was much left of the Weasleys could have done.” Draco’s voice sounded a little soft and unsure, and Harry wanted to hit himself for having caused that- What little he knew of Draco had painted a picture of someone who was sure of themselves and their position in the world. Draco sounding unsure was… It didn’t sit right with Harry. “There were a number of issues that led to them becoming Blood Traitors, but it was started off by the Feud that resulted when one of the Weasley Ancestors broke off their marriage contract, on their wedding day,  without even discussing it with us Malfoys, the family that they were going to marry into. To make matters worse, the Weasley ran off to marry a muggle-born witch of no known talents and didn’t even bother to inform anyone until <em> after </em> the bride had been left waiting.” </p><p>Harry, still feeling like a bit of an insensitive jerk, nudged Draco slightly and offered him one of the snacks that Tom had packed for him. There were many ways Harry had thought the Weasleys had become Blood Traitors, but he had completely forgotten about unions arranged in Lady Magic’s name. They were just as powerful as Unbreakable Vows and Oaths sworn using magic, blood and name, and Harry was actually surprised that, if Draco was speaking the truth, Weasley had enough magic in his veins to qualify for Hogwarts.</p><p>“The agreement to end the Feud was for the Weasley Family to disown the one who broke their contract, but we can see how that’s worked out. So, instead, the Malfoy family have been in a Feud with the Weasleys for generations and they lost their status as a result of everyone siding with us.” Draco shook his head and accepted one of the more plain ham-and-cheese sandwiches that were offered. He sounded more sure of himself by the end of it, and Harry could only guess as to why. Perhaps, with what little he’d seen from Draco and Ronald Weasley’s interactions, the dislike of each other seemed to be pretty mutual and had nothing to do with a Feud. Of course, Harry could admit that there wasn’t a whole lot he knew about the situation, and decided it was best to just keep quiet and change the subject.</p><p>He wasn’t even subtle with it, either. “What do you all think about Hogwarts? I’ve only just entered the Wizarding World and find myself in awe of the possibilities.”</p><p>Draco, naturally, was the first to jump onto the bandwagon, talking about he was expecting to do well in Potions- ‘My Godfather has tutored me, ever since I was five. He’s also the Potions Professor at Hogwarts, so I have a really good grasp already on the curriculum’. Draco also added that he was looking forward to both Flying and Defense. Zabini mentioned that Charms and Runes seemed to be more up his alley, with Nott agreeing and adding on Arithmancy to the classes. Greengrass just smiled and said that she doubted anyone was going to end up doing better than her in Charms since she’s been playing with a family wand and learning some household charms at an early age.</p><p>Harry, because he was the one to start the conversation, mentioned that he was looking forwards to Defense (he left out that he’d become soft-of friends with the teacher while working at the Leaky Cauldron; he even left out that he’d been working there), but that all of the classes seemed very interesting to him. Divination, however, seemed to him like a waste of time unless you were born with the gift.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Nott mumbled to himself after Harry mentioned that. “The Peverell Family were known for a lot of things, if I recall my lessons correctly. Their breakthroughs in almost all forms of Magic are pretty legendary, and helped define the more commonly accepted rules of magic that we still use today.” </p><p>Harry could recall reading something along those lines, and the Peverell Grimoire made a lot more sense. The book had been filled to the brim with unfinished spellwork and potion theories, and even had been used as a personal journal quite a few times. Harry had half a mind to try and finish some of those unfinished pieces, but had to concede that what little he’d been able to translate of the written work had been… not so pleasant. </p><p>The spells were mostly for offense, with quite a few involving situations that Harry was pretty sure were considered illegal these days. </p><p>The Journal aspects were even more revealing, and were typically written by a Peverell in the middle of a fight- be it a personal one or not. Those, Harry had discovered early on, showed just how differently magic was treated in the modern world when compared to back when the first few entries were made- Year 137, if the book on ancient runes were telling him the truth.</p><p>Harry actually had very little idea if what he had been reading was correct. The family magic, Gruknott had explained when Harry had asked about, would automatically translate the language to something more legible to him, but it didn’t translate perfectly. There were many, many phrases in the Peverell Grimoire that Harry couldn’t make sense of (“<em> Like a steed in a tree abroad singing Nargles </em>” read a sentence in the very first of the Journals) and even more words that weren’t translatable by the magic and left as they were amidst the rest of the clipped and broken sentences. </p><p>“I know that Hogwart Houses tend to be really similar in families,” Harry admitted after a moment, desperately trying to change the subject again just so he stopped contemplating one of the books in his briefcase. “Which house do you think I’ll get into?”</p><p>“Gryffindor, most likely!” Greengrass laughed. “Both of your parents were in it, although I’ve heard rumors you were blood-adopted by a Black, so Slytherin might be a possibility.”</p><p>“With his love of books,” Draco pointed out a little dryly, “He could end up in Ravenclaw. I’ve shown you some of his letters and the wit in them is pretty decent.”</p><p>“All things considered,” Harry grinned, thinking of how he was part of the Slytherin Family, “I’d be surprised if I don’t end up in House Slytherin.” If anyone thought it odd that he specified the Hogwarts House, no one mentioned it.</p><p>“Still, best not to get your hopes up early.” Zabini pointed out, and before anyone could say anything else, the Cabin door opened up again and there was another redheaded person standing there. </p><p>She had a look that sort of reminded Harry of one of Draco’s sneers, but she lacked the refinement that Draco had. The girl was also clutching a book in hand, and didn’t even bother to give out an apology before demanding to know if anyone in the cabin had seen a toad. Harry tried to fight off the shiver that engulfed him when an image of Dudley flashed to the forefront of his mind.</p><p>Harry did not need the imagery right now.</p><p>“You know,” Draco sneered, proving Harry right about the difference between the two of them, “It’s quite rude to barge in uninvited and not apologize, but what should I expect from someone raised in the muggle world. They’ve no sense of tact and culture.”</p><p>“Well, that’s just rude.” The girl huffed, her face flushing red. “I’m helping Neville look for his missing toad, Trevor. Have any of you seen it?”</p><p>“Unless toads can suddenly do magic and walk through doors, no.” Zabini cut off whatever it was that Draco was about to say. “You’d think you’d have some common sense, after all. Maybe Mother was right about muggle-borns and that they don’t deserve magic.”</p><p>“Excuse you?” The girl’s face was now  a much darker shade of red. “I’ll have you know that I have just as much of a right to study magic at Hogwarts as anyone else!”</p><p>“Please stop fighting.” Harry offered up quickly. “Miss,” Harry turned to the girl at the doorway. “I apologize for my companions' behavior. They aren’t necessarily wrong to be upset, however. New Bloods like yourself come in from the Muggle world and stomp all over the traditions and customs that have kept Magic alive from centuries. How would you feel if you had thousands upon thousands of years of traditions squandered away and forbidden just because a group you were outnumbered by suddenly decided that their traditions and beliefs were more important than the native one. It’s no different from how Britain became the Empire that the sun never set on, mind you, but how do you think the native populations of each place felt?”</p><p>The girl’s face flushed again, but the drawn-up tension in her shoulders deflated. Harry very carefully ignored the gob-smacked expression on Draco’s face and the disbelief that crossed the eyes of Greengrass- both of whom were in Harry’s peripheral vision.</p><p>“I can tell that you value the knowledge of books, Ma’am.” Harry offered up a small smile. “Are you aware of the Unspeakables, and the inability to write lies?” When the girl nodded with a mumbled line that Harry couldn’t quite comprehend, he continued on. “There’s a set of books by Unspeakable Lyra. The series itself is called ‘The Creation and Life of Magic’, but the books I recommend are called ‘<em> Magic and its Birth </em> ’, and ‘ <em> Magical Societies through the Ages </em>’. They’re both very dull and dry reads, but are both very enlightening. I think you may have to owl-order them from the Ministry, however. I’ve read them both, too, and don’t mind helping you figure out anything if you have questions.”</p><p>There was a single moment of pause, and Harry spoke up again. “This all said, I apologize for my rudeness. I am Hadrian Peverell-Potter, may I enquire as to your name, miss?”</p><p>“Hermione Granger.” The girl’s flush seemed to be fading just a bit now, but she looked highly uncomfortable. From the corner of Harry’s eyes, he could see the curious look that crossed Greengrass’ face, and he didn’t need to focus to hear the huff from Draco.  “I… How does one go about ordering those books you mentioned?”</p><p>To Harry’s surprise, it was Nott who had spoken up. He had been quite the entire time, watching everything with hawk eyes nearly matching Zabini’s, who seemed highly amused. “I’d write a general letter addressed to the Ministry of Magic, asking about how to purchase the books written by Unspeakables. They’ll either send you a letter back detailing the process and costs, or they’ll just send you the books. I’ve owled them directly concerning books written by Unspeakables a few times. I get mixed results, truth be told. I’m half convinced that the Unspeakables do it just to mess with people. If you need an owl, just nab a school owl; they’re for all students who don’t have an owl for a pet.”</p><p>Granger accepted that answered with a grateful nod, and was cut off by a muffled shout of ‘Trevor! There you are!’. Granger apologized rather awkwardly, and carefully shut the cabin door.</p><p>“Are you trying to redeem a Mud-blood? There’s no way she isn’t anything but- I felt her magic, it’s all ill and dry!” Draco’s voice sounded… Harry wasn’t sure. He didn’t sound angry, but it was obvious he wasn’t happy either. Draco’s words lacked the bite that Harry had used with Vernon to tell the difference between his drink-induced anger and his genuine anger. “What about you, Theo? Why did you jump onto the bandwagon? I thought you had better sense than that!”</p><p>“Whatever happens, happens.” Harry admitted with a shrug- and chuckled when Draco made a sound in the back of throat that sounded like a whine. Nott simply nodded his head and pulled a book out from his bag and began to read through it. Taking his cue from Nott, Harry opened his briefcase long enough to grab a book of his own. It was clear enough a sign that neither he or Nott were willing to discuss what was going through their minds- and Harry had a very, very good idea of what was going through Nott’s head. </p><p>Harry had hopes for the school year, and he could only hope that he could get through all of it without having his vague plans blow up in his face. If he could get Nott to help him… well, that took care of a lot of things. Mostly, however, it gave him an extra brain to pick when it came to potential plans.</p><p>Slowly, conversation picked up between Greengrass and Draco, but Harry wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the curious glances that either were giving him, nor the still-lingering hawk-eyes of Zabini.</p>
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